Fifty Words for Forgiveness
by CorvusCorvidae
Summary: Santana Lopez finds herself with a daily word limit. Confused, alone, and heartbroken, she needs to find her words, and the girl she lost along the way. AU. Complete.
1. Chapter 1: The Note

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

_This is going to sound fucking crazy, but I want you to hear me out with an open mind._

_Imagine if you could only use a limited number of words a day. Let's say it's fifty words. You get fifty words a day, and after that you get no more. You can't say anything after fifty, no matter how hard you try._

_By the end of this sentence, I will have used eighty-one words, and yet I haven't really said anything. That's the problem. You have to make those words count, but fifty is such a small number, and you want to say so much more. _

_Fifty words, Q, and then I can't say a damn thing. Now whether you buy this or not, I don't care, cause it won't change anything. I'll still only get fifty words tomorrow. This doesn't change the fact that I'll see you in the hallway, and I'll have ten words left, and I'll say them all to you. _

_You get my words. You get all fifty words. _

_My silence isn't a joke, and I'm not scheming, despite what everyone thinks. I don't want to waste my words, because they belong to you. Why would I waste them on small talk and all that crap when I could be using them to tell you that you look fucking gorgeous today? Which you do, by the way. _

_What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't take my silence as rejection. It's anything but. And yeah, I could have just written down how I was feeling and what I want for us, but I want to say it. I want to use those fifty words to let you know how I feel about you. _

_So, tomorrow, when I see you, I'll have fifty words to play with, and I'm going to make them count. _

_P.S. This is 328 words long. It would have taken me 8 days to tell you all this in person. _

*0*0*

You had slipped the note in Quinn's locker and then vacated the area as fast as possible. Last time she caught you loitering around, she looked ready to beat you to death with her folder. That was not happening again. You couldn't face to have her look at you that way, not when only a month ago she was looking at you with something much closer to love than hatred.

Those looks were long gone, though, and it was all your fault. You had to rectify that. You needed those looks back.

You knew not to expect miracles with Quinn, though, because that note was pretty out there, but so was your situation. How could you properly explain this situation when you didn't even know what was going on yourself? You woke up one day and started hearing this creepy voiceover counting every word you said. You didn't know why it stopped at fifty. You didn't know why you had to endure this. So how could you give Quinn all the answers she needed in a simple note? You couldn't.

All you could do was hope that she took you at face value and thought back on all the times you stopped speaking midsentence, all the times you couldn't commit to her, and all the times you bit your tongue. You held back for her, she had to see that, surely.

With that in mind, you wanted to give Quinn a few days to process everything you had said, but you did mention making your words count the next time she saw you. The note went into her locker on Tuesday, so on Wednesday morning you approached her cautiously. You needed to try speaking to her, at least. Sadly, she shot you a filthy glare and pointed you away, and like the pathetic creature you were, you obeyed her silent order and left her alone. She needed more time to process, obviously.

By Friday, you were itching to speak to her again. All those words wasted making small talk with your parents, your teachers, yourself, when they could have been used to talk to Quinn. It was ridiculous how you had even made it to Friday without trying to speak to her once more.

There did seem to be some improvement on her part, though, it wasn't much. She had stopped glaring at you, but rather was ignoring you completely. It was like you didn't exist. So much so, you wondered if her anger last time was actually in relation to your note. Had she even received it? Or had you cocked that up too?

Deciding it was better to face the situation head on, you approached her locker at the end of lunch. You had to bite the bullet and find out. Plus, you were desperate to talk to her. Like always, she was rooting around inside her locker like Narnia was hidden back there, and your arrival seemed to go unnoticed. It wasn't until you leant on the locker next to hers that you saw her spine straighten and her body tense up. So she knew you were there, that was a start.

No effort on her part was made to speak or even acknowledge your presence. You were going to have to speak first. Okay, you could do that. You had fifty words to play with, having made sure not to waste them earlier, so it made sense to say them to the one girl you wanted to hear them.

"Did you get my note?" you asked, not wanting to dance around the topic any more than you had to. Small talk was a waste, and something you wanted to avoid at all costs.

**Five.**

And hello creepy voice over. It was good to see you, too. God, you wished for the day when you woke up, spoke, and didn't hear that voice.

Slamming her locker shut, Quinn finally acknowledged you properly. She turned and glared at you like you were scum of the earth, then shook her head, laughing humourlessly. Oh you were going to get it now. This was not a good start. You wanted 'pissed-off-but-rational-Quinn' who would base her opinion of you on past experiences. Instead, you had gotten 'Scary-serial-killer-Quinn'. She was going to murder you, right by her locker, for everyone in McKinley to see, and she'd probably get off scot-free for it too.

"Did I get your note? Yeah, I got your note. That's some nerve you've got. Do you think I'm a complete moron? I mean, really, Santana, do you think I'm stupid, that I would actually believe you? Fifty words and then you're done. Yeah, sure, of course. That's normal."

You wanted to argue your point but that would be a waste. She wasn't going to listen to you anymore. She was done listening to you by the looks of it, and as she continued her rant, you knew you had to take this, as much as you didn't want to. Let her rant, and maybe she'd give you an in, a way to prove that you're weren't making this up.

"You're just too scared to admit your feelings, and I'm done. I gave you so many chances, and here you are, wanting one more. Well, no. No. You don't get any more chances, and I don't care if you use your precious words on me. They won't mean anything. Nothing you say means anything to me. You had your shot and you screwed it up."

Shit, you could feel the tears beginning to form. That was not part of the plan. You were not going to cry, that was not happening. No, you had to buck the fuck up, and deal with this. She was angry. You knew this. Let her be angry. Give her time to cool off and then come back and fix this another time. You were not done yet, you could and would fix this. You hadn't lost her.

"So why don't you go use your words on someone who will forgive you for jerking them around, huh? God knows you've got to make amends with a hell of a lot more people than just me. Start there, and when you're done, maybe we'll talk, if you can even do that," Quinn said, having either chosen to ignore your teary looking eyes or not realised the effect her words had on you.

She pulled her books closer to her chest and got ready to walk away, but you weren't going to let her go without one last try. You had words left, you could use them on her, that wouldn't be a problem.

"Okay, but I'm not giving up," you began, halting her in her steps.

**Eleven.**

"You want me to make amends with the others, I will. I'll apologise for all the shitty things I've said and done to them, and after, I'll be back to talk to you. This isn't over between us, Quinn."

**Fifty. **

Thank Christ you got that to fit.

Stopping about a foot away, Quinn turned back to you and shook her head. Those hazel eyes that were once filled with adventure, excitement and adoration were no more. She was looking at you through cold and dead eyes, solidifying the need for space between the two of you. And you just knew in your gut that what she was about to say was going to hurt, but you needed to hear it anyway. You had hurt her, now she was going to even the score.

"That's the thing, Santana, there never was anything to begin with. It's over, but only because it never began. We were nothing; we are nothing." With that, she turned and walked away without a second thought.

You were left holding back all the anger and pain her statement had caused. She was wrong. You wanted to argue how wrong she was, remind her of the times you were something together, when it became more than just causal hook ups for the two of you. You needed to remind her that there was something there. The flame may have dwindled due to your pathetic attempts at pretending she was nothing more than a friend, but with the right conditions you could and you would get it back to being a roaring fire. You had to, you needed her.

Having used all your words on Quinn, you had none left for anyone else, but given the emotional blow she had dealt, you really didn't feel like saying anything anyway. What was there to say? She had said it all.

*0*0*

From that point on, Quinn kept out of your way, and you hers. You would give her sad smiles when she looked at you, but then she just stopped looking. No doubt you looked like a puppy that had been kicked, and who wanted to look at that? Of course she would look away. Fucking pathetic.

Given that she no longer wanted your words, that did give you time to do as you said you would. Seeking out most of the Glee members wasn't hard, and you managed to apologise without screwing up your face as you did so. It was improvement, and it was all Quinn's stupid doing.

She had made you into this mess. Santana Lopez did not apologise. She didn't, and yet, there you were, practically on your knees grovelling for forgiveness from the Glee Club of all people. Half of them didn't even buy the sincerity of your words, which stung, but fuck it. You had apologised, and that was that.

The only person you refused to apologise to was Finn. No fucking way was that happening, and surely Quinn couldn't blame you for that.

What you realised, though, whilst being pathetic and muttering 'I'm sorry' and 'maybe one day you can forgive me' was that you actually were sorry, and you did actually want them to forgive you.

If this twisted situation taught you anything, it was that your words were important. You had wasted so many tearing these people down, the ones who were there for you when Finn outed you, and the ones who were there for you when your abuela disowned you. They didn't deserve half the shit your threw at them, and fuck, you were genuinely sorry, whether they believed you or not.

The only one who responded kindly to your apology was Berry, and that shit was just weird. Of all the people to be ridiculed by you, she should have shoved your apology back in your face, but she didn't. Instead, she gave you a coy little smile and then hugged you tightly.

"I forgive you, Santana, and I'm so glad that you've seen the affect your words can have on people. This really means a lot to me, and maybe we could even be friends now. Obviously, I don't want to push my luck, but this is a new chapter for us. I do see that some of your nicknames are actually terms of endearment, and if you could just refrain from using 'rupaul', 'treasure trail', 'manhands', and the other ones implying I'm actually a man, then this could work. So, friends?"

And shit, what was the worst that could happen? You didn't have any friends, especially since Quinn was pissed at you. Berry wasn't that bad, you noted, and fuck maybe she was even crazy enough to deal with the truth about your fifty word debacle, if you ever had to tell her.

"Yeah, I'd like that," you replied, feeling a little nervous, but hugging her back nonetheless.

**Thirty three.**

"Great!" She let you go, and quickly made her leave. You knew she didn't want to chance it any more than she had, which you felt guilty for. She still didn't trust you, totally understandable, and she didn't want you to lash out like you used to, even as friends or whatever you were trying to be.

It made sense, so you couldn't fault her, but as you made your way to your car after school, you realised that even without the harsh words and verbal attacks, still no one wanted to hang around you. You truly had isolated yourself.

Maybe that was Quinn's plan though, because that realisation hurt. She was still evening the score, it seemed, and given your treatment of her, you knew you had to continue to take it. She was proving a point, one you needed to learn.

The glee club didn't know how you felt about them. Rachel didn't know that you liked her singing. Tina didn't know that you knew her name. Kurt didn't know that you thought him particularly funny. Brittany didn't know you'd forgiven her for everything that happened last year. Sam didn't know that you actually liked his trouty mouth. None of them knew you considered them the closest things to friends you had, minus Finn of course.

You hadn't told them. You hadn't told them anything, just like you hadn't told Quinn the countless times she'd asked. Therefore, it was only fair they distanced themselves from you. It made sense they were done with you. You had brought this on yourself, and lying back on your bed afterschool, unable to speak, you accepted the fact that this was your punishment.

Fifty words, because if you couldn't say it in fifty words or less, then it didn't need to be said.

Hi - one. Yes - one. No - one. Thank you - two. You're welcome - two. I miss you - three. I'm sorry - two. Forgive me - two. I like you - three. Stay – one. Don't ever leave me - four. I need you - three. I love you - three. I can't live without you - five. Love me - two. Kiss me -two. Touch me -two. Make love to me - four. Please - one. Quinn - one. Will you be my girlfriend? – five.

How hard was that? Why couldn't you have done that?

She only wanted to hear three words from your lips. Three simple words and she would have been yours, but no, you couldn't do that. You couldn't tell her and now you were paying the price.

You coward.

*0*0*


	2. Chapter 2: How It All Began

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

How It All Began

*0*0*

You don't quite know how it happened. One minute, Quinn and you were lying on your bed, laughing about something completely ridiculous, and the next, the two of you were silently staring at each other. Or rather, you were staring at the other's lips.

The atmosphere in the room had changed, suddenly. It was no longer fun and jovial. It had been kicked up a notch, and was palpable to the both of you. Almost like static electricity underneath your fingertips. You could feel the charge, sense that something monumental was about to take place.

It didn't take a genius to work out what.

Quinn moved forward at the same time you did, closing the gap between your bodies, and you heard her breath hitch as your hand grasped at her waist. That stopped you in your tracks for a second, your forehead resting against hers. She was breathing deeply, looking a little shocked at the direction this seemed to be going.

You were shocked yourself, but only because you'd never done this with her before. What the hell had been stopping you? How had you never looked at Quinn this way? Brittany was a given, her sexual fluidity allowed for the boundaries of friendship to be pushed to new heights, but Quinn, she was completely different. She was never one for thinking outside of the box, trying something new, so why hadn't she stopped you yet?

It was obvious what your next move was going to be. You had been licking your lips and edging closer to hers in anticipation. You could feel her breath on you, mixing with yours as you breathed in. You could almost taste her, her scent taking over your senses, surrounding you.

She smelt fucking amazing, like a breath of fresh air and fucking sunshine. You're not even sure how she smelt like that, but she did. That was what kept coming to mind. And hell, looking at her, she looked like a fallen angel, her golden hair like a damn halo shining bright, her pupils dilated and wide, waiting for your next move, but still so innocent and pure. She smelt fucking innocent and pure, yet you knew she wasn't. You knew from first-hand experience that she could be as conniving and cruel as the best of them.

She was a fucking paradox. She was virtue and sin, and she was lying on your bed, looking at you with her doe fucking eyes, lips moist and just waiting to be kissed.

"What is it?" Quinn whispered, and you realised you'd been staring. She probably had expected you to kiss her already, but you were getting to that, you just needed a moment to look at her, to take her in.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you whispered without even thinking. She was, and she should be told she was. You don't ever do feelings and shit, but you needed her to know she was fucking pretty. For whatever reason, you needed her to know.

She was different. She wasn't Brittany. She was Quinn and you needed to let her know that you weren't going to use her if she was to let you kiss her. You were so close to her, your bodies pressed together and your nose practically nuzzling into her cheek. It was intimate, and something you normally didn't do but God, it was Quinn.

She actually looked surprised by your words. Maybe she wasn't expecting those words from you. Maybe she wasn't expecting you to have held back this long. You were known for your quick and easy technique, no feelings, no terms of endearments, no soft approach. This had to be shocking for her then, because it was shocking for you, too.

Her shock only lasted a moment though, before her gaze changed to one of pure and unadulterated desire. You could only mirror her look, your eyes half-lidded with want. This was turning out to be a much better evening than you ever thought possible, and it was all because of her.

"San, kiss me," she whimpered, practically begging you, as her lips lightly brushed against yours when she spoke.

She wanted this. She wanted you. She wasn't Brittany, she definitely wasn't Brittany, and she was pleading for you to kiss her. Quinn Fabray was on your bed and begging for you to kiss her. Christ, how could you deny her that? How could you say no to that offer?

You were so close to her, your face nuzzling into hers further, that nodding in reply achieved nothing, but she knew you were going to comply with her request. She closed her eyes fully and you turned your head, the heat of her skin burning against your own. This was it. You were actually going to kiss Quinn Fabray.

Holy hell.

This might have been your only chance to kiss her, the goddamn fallen angel, so you couldn't fuck this up. If the two of you were abandoning all caution and throwing your friendship off a cliff, this kiss had to be worth it. Nothing would be the same after this, you knew that, so it had to fucking count.

Licking your lips one last time, you shut your eyes and just held steady for a moment. She was breathing you in, doing exactly what you had just done to her moments before. This was her moment to stop you.

Thank fuck she didn't take it.

You closed the distance, ever so gently moving your lips closer, your forehead still resting on hers, and softly pecked her lips once. It was a warning shot. Her lips were soft to the touch and returned your brief kiss with fever but it was the warning shot and it couldn't last long.

Quinn whimpered when it was over, groaning and tugging at your shirt roughly. Her other hand came up to cup your cheek, trying to pull you back in, and you knew that there was no reason to hold off anymore. You'd given her all chances in the world to end this, to put a stop to it. If she wasn't going to take them then neither were you.

Her lips were on yours quickly, catching your bottom lip between hers as she tried to get more from you, it knocked you senseless for a moment. The pressure was hard and demanding, unforgiving and exacting and it only took a second for you to return her kisses with the same enthusiasm. It was overwhelming, the scent of her, innocent and pure, and the taste of her, warm, hot and sensual. She was trying to kiss you again and again, wanting more and more, but you needed to breathe, to catch your breath, try and clear the air.

Quinn wasn't done though, and was instantly kissing you again, her teeth tugging at your bottom lip, her tongue gliding over it afterwards. You tried so hard to fight back the groan but were unsuccessful. It ripped from your chest as she licked at your lips again, her tongue hotly teasing you.

You needed to feel her tongue against yours. You needed to feel her body underneath yours. You needed to feel her, all of her, every single inch of her. But your hand was met with clothing. Her cardigan was blocking you and her skirt was keeping you from her skin. That had to change, immediately.

It was too fucking hot anyway, and her lips were burning against yours, her tongue scorching your skin as she deviated her path and started lavishing at your neck. You were going to spontaneously combust at this rate, burn the whole damn place down.

How could an angel like her have kisses that were hotter than hell? How was she so innocent and pure yet so seductive and sexy?

Paradox, fucking paradox, Quinn Fabray.

Burying your hand in her hair, you tugged her back up to your lips and used your body to push her onto her back. You expertly climbed on top of her body, falling in between those perfect thighs of hers, and with the change in position came the change in kiss.

You took her bottom lip between yours and nipped at it hard with your teeth, grinding down into her simultaneously. She panted in response, breaking the kiss, but allowing you access. Sneaking your tongue out, you kissed her again and sought out hers. First touch had you grinding your hips harder into hers, your fingers entangling in her hair, and the other hand gripping tightly at her hip. Her tongue was so warm, so wet, and so fucking good at teasing yours. She was playing with you, winding you up and making you suffer, her tongue only just stroking against yours briefly before she would end the kiss.

It was driving you insane, making you whimper and whine at her for more. The smug little smirk she was wearing in between kisses was enough to have you biting back a growl. You couldn't take it anymore, this had gone on long enough. She was driving you crazy with need, the throb between your legs affecting your ability to think at all. You needed her out those clothes. You needed to touch, kiss, lick, devour, worship her body like it deserved to be. You needed her so fucking badly.

You detangled your hands from her body and pushed yourself backwards so you were resting on your knees over her. You watched as she opened her eyes slowly, panting heavily, to see what you were up to. Those heady eyes were screaming at you to hurry the fuck up, and if that wasn't enough encouragement, the way her tongue wetted her top lip before gliding smoothly over the bottom was. You grabbed fistfuls of your t-shirt and pulled it up over your head as fast as you could, desperate to return to her.

Dropping back down, sliding your body back to where it was, you felt her hands come up to rest on your ribcage, just beneath your bra. Her fingers were ghosting over your skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake, and you whined, shaking your head as you sought out her lips. She was teasing you again; always the fucking teasing and never the fucking pleasing.

Maybe if you tried hard enough she'd change her mind, though. God, there was a challenge.

With newfound determination, you let your hands wander, your tongue swirling against the skin of her neck as she panted beneath you. Those sounds, those noises, they were fucking heavenly. You didn't want them to stop. The moaning, groaning, whimpering; the mewling, gasping, panting. You needed to hear it all, again and again and again.

Everything was building, the heat in the room becoming unbearable, the sensation of her tongue against yours becoming overwhelming, the feeling of her hands on your body becoming too much for you to handle. She was too much. Too much, too soon, too close.

Oblivious to the intensity of her movements, Quinn's hips continued to buck upwards into yours. The friction wasn't enough for her, or for you, but you were whimpering nonstop now, your kisses becoming sloppy as you fought off the urge to flee. You didn't want it to stop, but you needed it to. It was too much, it was burning you, setting you alight from the inside.

Breaking your kiss, you pulled back and tried to push your body up off hers, creating space between the two of you. Quinn wouldn't have it, as though reading your mind, and wrapped her arms around your neck, keeping you close to her. Your eyes shut blissfully at the contact and you just wanted to sink back into her. Frowning, you shook away all thoughts of doing so and opened your eyes again.

All movement had stopped, and the two of you were back to staring at one another. The only sound in the room was the two of you breathing heavily, trying to catch back the breath your kisses had stolen.

Quinn was watching you carefully, waiting for your next move, and probably wondering why you had stopped at all. You were wondering the same thing. Why had you stopped? Why was it so fucking intense? She didn't seem to be having this problem, so why were you?

You were leaning over her in your bra and jeans, and from the way she was kissing you, touching you, it was clear your top was probably the first of many items that were going to make their way to the floor that evening. So, again, why had you stopped?

This night promised nothing but orgasms and ecstasy at the rate it was going. She certainly didn't look like she was going to stop you. The fact she was keeping you on top of her, despite you pulling away, should have been enough proof that she wanted this. She was willing and ready and you could have her. You could sleep with her. You could actually have sex with Quinn Fabray.

And that was the problem.

Just like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you, the heat in the room evaporated and you broke out in goose bumps from the cold. Your body was tense, rigid, and you knew that this was now over, no matter how badly your hips wanted to continue grinding into her.

It was Quinn, _Quinn Fabray_.

You couldn't. You just couldn't. The kissing and the grinding were one thing, but undressing her, getting her naked, that was the fucking Promised Land. If you were going to sleep with her, it was not going to be a quick fuck because you were feeling horny. Her first time was fucking awful with Puck, you were not going to fucking ruin her second time by using her for a release.

You weren't fucking heartless, despite what most people thought.

Quinn's once confident gaze had softened somewhat, and she was looking at you with apprehension. Understanding the change in mood, she unhooked her arms from behind your neck, giving your ribcage one last caress on the way down and waited for what was to come next.

It was over, for the both of you.

You leant in ever so slightly for one last kiss. It was slow, gentle, almost a caress of your lips against hers. You wanted to savour as much of her as you could, but time was up. This was the final bullet in the gun. You were done.

Extracting yourself from on top of her, you moved back to your original position on the bed before all this started. Quinn was still lying there, as if stuck in place, rigid and uneasy. That wouldn't do. You reached out and grasped at her hand, entwining your fingers with hers.

She was watching you with confusion and trepidation, no doubt expecting the worst from you. Your reputation never said anything about stopping when given the green light. You never had, but this was different and she was different and you hoped she knew that. If she asked, it would be fucking painful. You didn't want to have to explain. You needed her to just know. You needed her to know you weren't going to use her like that.

Sex with some faceless nobody was one thing, fucking your best friend was another altogether.

"I don't understand," Quinn whispered, scratching at the comforter as she avoided eye contact. You were frowning at her, hoping she could see your reasoning in your eyes, silently imploring her to look at you, but she didn't.

Her hair was a rumpled mess, locks tangled and twisted, and her lips were bruising from the demanding pressure of yours, yet she'd never looked so fucking beautiful. It was a big enough reminder for you to gather your emotional shit up and lock it away inside.

"You're more than a quick fuck, Q," you replied, shrugging casually to play it off as nothing. "I'm not…you deserve better than some ride on the school bicycle."

Taking back your hand, you crawled off the bed, and grabbed your shirt. You didn't dare look at her as you pulled it over your head and moved towards the bathroom. She wasn't allowed to see the hurt in your eyes. She was never going to be allowed to see it. She must not know how this had changed things for you. You'd buried it, so it had to stay buried.

Closing the bathroom door behind you, you leant backwards onto it and sighed. What the hell had you been thinking? She was your best friend. The situation with Brittany should have already taught you that sleeping with your best friend always ended badly. So why? Why the fuck did you kiss her? Why did you give into her? Why?

You couldn't afford this. You couldn't afford to see her in any other light than a friend. It wouldn't work. You knew it wouldn't work. She was fucking innocent and pure. She was virtue. You were fucking temptation and impulse. You were sin. Those things didn't mix.

She was the fucking fallen angel and you were Satan. How could you have possibly thought that would end well?

It wouldn't. You needed to shut it down. The intensity, the fever, the desire to go back out there and kiss her softly and slowly and to just take your time with her had to end. You were not going to do this again. Once was enough.

No more.

Never again.

*0*0*


	3. Chapter 3: Progress

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Progress

*0*0*

Quinn's bright idea that you should apologise to those you had hurt in the past, while in theory was good, hadn't actually changed anything. You knew the Glee club weren't going to take your words to heart initially, but after weeks passing and no verbal assault from you, you figured they'd maybe have warmed up to you. They hadn't. You were alone.

You watched them all travel in packs, their little friendship cliques, and even when you gave them a small smile that didn't look like a grimace in any which way, they still ignored you. It hurt, more than you thought it would. Obsessing over it, though, wasn't going to do you any favours. So, like usual, you pretended that it didn't hurt, that they didn't bother you, and you tried to get along like everything was normal.

Normal in the sense that you still only had fifty words per days and your creepy voiceover didn't look to be leaving you anytime soon. Such bliss.

Having apologised to everyone, two weeks ago, you technically had the right to go back to Quinn and speak to her. She had the right to blow you off, which you knew she would, but at least the option was there. Surely, she had heard of your efforts to make things right with them. They all gossiped like mad, one of them must have mentioned it. Sadly, there was no way of you knowing, and you really didn't want to have to go out of your way to get her to notice you.

That would just be pathetic, and you were anything but pathetic. Kind of.

Knowing that the cafeteria at lunchtime was just no place for you anymore, you took to hiding out elsewhere for lunch. Anywhere but the cafeteria was a safe haven, away from the prying eyes of the student body. You could still hear the whispers and the chatter as you walked down the hallways, and you knew they were all waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been several months since your creepy voiceover pitched up, and they were still all wondering about the change in you.

What had changed? Why had she stopped attacking us? Has she had a mental breakdown? Could she have had a personality transplant? Was this some elaborate prank? Who was she trying to hurt with this scheme? She couldn't actually be turning nice, could she? Who was she? Where the hell had Santana Lopez gone?

They all wondered. You knew they all wanted to know. However, it was pretty obvious that this was one secret you were not going to put out there. The last secret they had on you got you a one way ticket to family abandonment and prejudice, this one would have you wearing a straitjacket and thrown in a padded room.

Maybe telling Quinn wasn't such a bright idea. After all, she was known to have stabbed people in the back, you included. If she didn't think this was some joke, maybe she would have you locked up in a mental asylum. That thought had you frowning, because while you liked to believe it wasn't true, you knew there was a possibility of her telling everyone, and then things would suddenly get very difficult for you.

Sighing, you pulled your bag closer and worked your way through the school, towards the auditorium. No one was around, thankfully, and no one saw you go in. The last thing you needed was some repulsive little sophomore who thought he had the cojones to belittle you for eating lunch by yourself. That had happened one time, and why you had moved from eating in the Spanish classroom.

The lights were off when you entered, except for the ones on the stage, and you wondered if you had just missed someone in there practicing. Hopefully, they were done, as you really didn't want anyone seeing you there. Eating lunch by yourself only became extra pathetic when someone was there to witness it.

Picking a row, you slipped along the seats and headed for the middle. It was far enough in that if anyone came in, you could slyly slip out without them seeing you. Either that, or hide on the floor until they'd left, but you really hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Arriving at a decent set of seats, you turned to push the chair down and noticed a pair of eyes staring back at you in the row behind. Gulping, you squinted, your eyes having not adjusted enough to take in who it really was. Coming into focus, though, you realised it was Berry, rather than some psychopath. She could be excused for hiding in there. Anyone else would have got a very angry slew of Spanish curses thrown their way for almost scaring you like that.

"Oh, sorry," you muttered, frowning. You had hoped you would be alone, but apparently that was not going to be the case.

**Two. **

Then again, how could you ever be alone with that creepy voice around?

Turning to leave, you heaved your bag over your shoulder and chewed on your bottom lip. You'd wasted enough time making your way to the auditorium, and now finding an empty classroom was going to be difficult. Plus, she had seen you, which was damage enough.

"No, wait, you don't have to go," Berry called as you took a step backwards up the aisle. "You came here to eat lunch?" She was eying the bag you had in your hand, and you noticed she had a similar one open on her lap.

"Yeah." You didn't want to admit to her that you had planned on eating in there alone, but she didn't seem to be judging you. She actually looked curious as to your plans, rather than like she was going to maliciously tease you for them.

**Three. **

"I don't know, do you maybe want to join me?" she asked, dropping her eyes to her lap. Her sandwich had a bite out of it, and you could see a little pot of fruit next to it. All of this was placed on a napkin, covering her skirt.

She looked a little pitiful, all by herself, and seeing her like that hit a nerve. That's how you looked when you had lunch by yourself; pitiful. Good lord, you couldn't stand the thought of that.

"On the floor?" the words slipping out before you had a chance to censor them, and you saw Berry's face flinch from the harsh tone of your words.

**Six. **

"Well, no, we could actually sit in some chairs. I was just down here because…it doesn't matter. You probably don't care and don't want to eat with me. I can leave. Stay, have the auditorium. I'll go eat in the choir room."

Before you could respond, Berry had begun packing her things. She quickly wrapped her sandwich, took the bag and fruit pot and shuffled to her knees. You couldn't grasp why she would do this for you. It was you who had chased her into the auditorium all those years ago, and it became her safe zone. Now she was offering it up to you like it was nothing. You knew it wasn't, though. She was safe in there from slushies and verbal attacks. Outside those auditorium doors, she would have to fend for herself.

She knew that you would have to fend for yourself outside those doors, too, which was why she was getting up to leave.

"Miss Pillsbury and Mr Shue are in there," you said, shaking your head at her. You had seen them making eyes at one another on your way back from your locker. It was sickening.

**Fourteen.**

"Oh. Not a problem, then. I'll find somewhere else." Berry was on her feet, tucking her hair behind her ear as she made to leave. You climbed over the row of chairs and caught her sleeve, tugging her back to you. She looked a little scared, glancing at your hand and then back up to your eyes, at which point you let her wrist go.

"Auditorium is big enough for two," you said, shrugging.

**Twenty.**

With that, you sat your ass down on the floor where she had been sitting and waited for her to do the same. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a small smile on her lips, and for some reason that made you feel rather good about yourself.

Silently, the two of you started getting your lunches out and began to eat. You figured she would have opened her mouth after the first few minutes, but surprisingly she didn't. Maybe she didn't want you to kick her out if she spoke, or maybe she just didn't want to ruin whatever this was.

Yeah, the two of you had made amends, sort of, and there had been mentions of friendship, but you never thought it would happen. You had assumed it would be one of those friendships where you didn't bite her head off, and in return she'd leave you alone. You never thought it would come to this, eating lunch together. But, as you chewed on your lunch slowly, you realised you really didn't want to eat by yourself anymore. You had been doing that since Quinn and you fell out, when the lunchroom was no longer a safe zone for you. That had been weeks ago.

There Berry was, as lonely as you, and a perfectly willing candidate to each lunch with. You could do that. You could eat lunch with her every day. It's not like anyone would know, and even if they did, what would it matter? You had lost so much because of this stupid fifty words thing, your rep, your friends, Quinn. Eating lunch with Berry would be nothing. Hell, it might even be good for you.

Not wanting to seem too eager at the thought, you wondered if you could just casually throw that suggestion out there. Unless you padded it with actual conversation, though, you were going to look desperate and you didn't want that. Taking one more bite out of your lunch, you shrugged your shoulder and took the plunge.

"So…why you hiding out in here?" It wasn't the best opening line you've ever had, but it was good enough to start a conversation.

**Twenty seven. **

"Why are _you_ hiding out in here?" Berry shot back, raising her eyebrows at you in question.

There were so many excuses you could have given her, but right then, the truth seemed like the best bet. It wasn't like she wouldn't know if you lied, everyone knew about your current predicament. Given that Brittany and Quinn would be in the cafeteria having lunch, your absence was pretty obvious.

"Got nowhere else to go," you said, shrugging your shoulder. God, it sounded pathetic when you said it like that.

**Thirty two.**

"And what makes you think that's any different for me?"

Smiling humourlessly, you nodded in understanding. Of course it would be the same for her. Rachel had no one, just like you. Expect, the reason she had no one was partly your fault. If you hadn't made her such a social pariah in freshman year, maybe she would have someone.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, suddenly not so hungry.

**Thirty four.**

"Santana, you've already apologised. I forgive you. You didn't do this to me. I mean, you didn't help me any but I know that I am a lot to take. I'm loud, obnoxious, blunt, selfish-"

"You're forgiving," you said, interrupting her before she started tearing herself down even more. You couldn't sit and listen to her do that. You'd done it enough for her over the years, and the guilt was eating away at you for it. "And talented, and you..."

**Forty.**

Christ, you couldn't do this. You couldn't sit there and do this with her. She wasn't meant to get these words. Quinn was meant to get them. Quinn was supposed to be the one eating lunch with you, not Rachel Berry.

Taking a deep breath, you bit back the sudden urge to run. Running would do no good. You'd only run towards Quinn, and she really didn't need that. She was still ignoring you, so unless you were planning to tell her exactly what she wanted to hear, you didn't stand a chance. You needed to remain exactly where you were and not do anything rash.

As if sensing what you were about to do, Berry put her hand out and touched yours. You didn't flinch away, like you would have done three months ago, and you didn't feel the need to spit venom at her either.

"Please stay. You're the only company I've had in…well, quite a while actually. If you stay, I'll be quiet. I promise. I'll keep my mouth shut, and you won't have to listen to me jabber on anymore. Just stay, please," she begged, looking at you with so much desperation you couldn't leave even if you wanted to.

She needed you so she could feel slightly less alone, which was exactly what you needed her for. Leaving would do neither of you any good.

"Why the floor?" you asked, not wanting Berry to think she couldn't speak. It wasn't her words that had caused you to freak out. That was all your own doing.

**Forty three.**

Looking at you carefully, you watched as she gauged your expression. Obviously, she thought this was some kind of test. Her doubt in you was enough to provoke a small smile, and you raised your eyebrows in question, hoping she'd finally answer. The two of you were clearly going to have to work on trust.

"I was hiding from some of the hockey players. They followed me in here, started searching the room. It was safer just to stay down here once they'd left," she answered, shrugging much like you had moments before.

"Assholes," you muttered, shaking your head.

**Forty four.**

"My thoughts exactly."

Descending into silence again, the two of you finished off your lunches and were content to just sit there. You both knew that the second you stepped outside those auditorium doors, things would change. In there, you had peace and quiet, but outside, you had to fight to stay above water.

The bell signalled the end of your time together, and wordlessly you both packed up your things, and rose to your feet. Without giving each other a second glance, you headed towards the doors but both paused before opening them. You needed just one more second of calm. Berry did, too, by the looks of things.

Your fingers grasped the handle of the door and you went to pull it open but stopped, surprising Berry as you did so. Her game face was back on, as was yours, but you needed to just ask her one more thing.

"So I'll see you again tomorrow?" You didn't need to add anything else, she knew exactly what you meant. The warm smile that she gave you told you enough, but you waited to hear her response anyway.

**Fifty. **

"Yes, I'll see you tomorrow. Thank you, Santana." Content with that, you opened the door and headed back out into the hallway. The two of you parted ways as if nothing had happened, heading off in different directions.

And just like that, you had used all fifty words on Rachel Berry.

Stranger still, you were glad you had.

*0*0*

Your auditorium lunches with Berry ended up becoming routine for the two of you. Every lunch hour, you'd wander your way towards the auditorium, and settle down in the twenty ninth row. After about three days of sitting on the floor between the chairs the two of you finally decided it was acceptable to sit in them instead. You figured you could both hide before being spotted if anyone ever did come in.

Just like the first day, you tried to open a little further up to Berry. She was the only one willing to listen to you, and you the only one willing to listen to her. It worked. Whatever it was between you, it worked. She filled a gap, slowly earning your friendship, and you were thankful for her.

With more lunches came more trust, and eventually Berry began to ask the real questions. She had stopped the two of you from falling into any awkward silences in the past, but you knew she was only making weak conversation. She never asked what she really wanted to, and it was only a matter of time before she did.

One of those such instances was on a Glee day, and you knew it was only a matter of time before she asked you. She had been speaking about different numbers and routines for everyone to learn, when she stopped midsentence and turned to you. You didn't quite know what to expect at first.

"Why did you quit Glee?" she asked, suddenly. Her brow furrowed and she licked her lips slowly. "I thought you enjoyed it, and you were being given more parts, so it wasn't as though you were just swaying in the background. Yes, you weren't getting solos, but given the makeup of the group, I assumed you knew that you wouldn't get many and were okay with that. Is that why you quit? Did you want to be front and centre more?" Berry looked far too confused about this matter than you knew what to do with. None of your answers would be the one she was looking for.

"What does it matter?"

**Twenty three.**

"We miss you." You scoffed at that and shook your head. If Berry was going to lie, then maybe these lunches weren't going to work out after all. "Okay, fine," she conceded, shrugging. "I miss you. The group needs you. Without you, arguments last ten times longer, and no one has such an affective glare. You kept everyone in line, including me, and New Directions just doesn't work quite the same."

"I'm sure you'll survive without me." They had to, because you weren't going back. You couldn't. Signing was impossible.

**Twenty nine.**

"Why, though? Why did you quit?" Berry's inability to sense when she was poking a sleeping animal with a stick was not going to bode well for her, you decided, hoping she'd just let it drop. You knew you had to give her some kind of answer, but you didn't want to lie outright to her. Lying was a waste.

"I can't sing anymore," you replied, sucking in a deep breath and dropping your head back on the chair. Looking up at the ceiling, you held back the wave of emotions trying to break out, and settled yourself. You couldn't do anything about it, so there was no point getting upset. Until your words came back, you'd just have to accept the fact you couldn't be in Glee.

**Thirty three.**

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that." Whether Berry knew not to press you for anymore answers, or she genuinely thought you couldn't sing, you didn't know, but were very glad for this. Anymore, and you would have lost it, stormed out, said something you'd regret, and push her away. You couldn't afford to do that.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the last of Berry's incessant questions that hit too close to home. On a particularly rough day, where Quinn had practically looked right through you, Berry seemed to sense something was up. She had been watching you carefully throughout lunch, and just when you thought you could make a break for it, she asked.

"How did it start? With Quinn, I mean." She twirled a piece of fruit on her fork and awaited your reply.

You didn't need to ask how she knew, because it was obvious something was up between you and Quinn. Everyone could see it, you were just relieved many of them hadn't noticed the parallels between Quinn and you, and Brittany and you. It was like a mirror image, the way both those situations were playing out.

The rest of the student body was putting it down to a fight in the Unholy Trinity, and you were happy they had drawn that conclusion. Despite being out, you didn't want to broadcast your relationships to the whole school. That shit needed to be kept private, especially since there was no relationship to speak of. Rather, it was a complicated mess that needed sorted out, and you hoped Quinn would come around eventually and let you do just that.

"It was just sex," you replied, knowing Berry would never buy the 'argument between friends' bullshit you had sold everyone else.

**Sixteen**

"There is no such thing as 'just sex' between friends."

"Tell me about it," you muttered, earning a smile from Rachel.

**Twenty.**

She was watching you carefully, much like prey would look at predator to estimate their chances of survival when cornered. It had been a month since the two of you had started having lunches together, and even then, she was still a little wary of you.

"You miss her." It wasn't a question as she was already sure of it.

You nodded in reply anyway and sunk a little deeper into the auditorium chairs, sighing as you did so. God, yes, you missed her. You missed the soft smiles, the little jokes, the secret looks, the lustful gazes, the teasing touches, the feel of her skin beneath your fingertips. You missed it all.

"Santana, maybe I'm pushing the boundaries of this new and delicate friendship, but I am curious. You can tell me to go to hell after I ask, obviously, and I expect that you will, but I feel the need to ask anyway."

"What is it?" You couldn't help but be a little worried by Rachel's preamble. Things had been going well between the two of you, or so you thought. You didn't want her to suddenly say something that would ruin that.

**Twenty three. **

"Do you love her? I mean, do you really love her? The kind of love that is self-sacrificing and selfless. Is it that kind of love?" She paused for thought. You knew she wasn't done from the way she pursed her lips together in hesitation. "Is the love you have for Quinn different than the love you had for Brittany?" Biting her lip quickly, you watched her plough on ahead and knew this was the big question. "If Quinn asked you to stop, to let her go, leave her alone, would you do it? Could you do it?"

Her final question hung on the impression that your love for Quinn was selfless. Could you do that? Were you even capable of doing that? Giving up on Quinn, letting her go, was that possible for you? You'd never want to make her uncomfortable with your presence, so yes, maybe you could distance yourself from her, but truly let her go? How could you do that? The only reason to do that would be if she didn't want you. If she didn't want you then, you'd have no option but to stop.

"I didn't mean to freak you out, Santana, I'm so very sorry. Please, if you're going to hit me, avoid my nose. Anywhere else, but just not the nose. It's my most important feature, besides my voice, of course."

"Stop talking," you whispered, but you could have yelled it for the way it shut Rachel up so fast. She waited, worrying at her bottom lip, as you processed everything she'd just made you face.

**Twenty five.**

Was your love for Quinn selfless? Was her happiness more important than yours? Would you still love her even if she didn't love you back? That's effectively what Rachel was asking you, and it was something you'd never even thought of before. If Quinn loved another, instead of you, could you still love her?

This was where your history worked in your favour, because you technically still loved Brittany. Yes, it wasn't the same. You loved her platonically, with a little scribble at the end for possible sex that may or may not take place in the future, but romantically was a no. You had loved her, more than you'd loved anyone before. Yet being with Quinn was on a whole new level, ten times what you felt for Brittany.

If you couldn't be with her, that didn't stop you from loving her. She deserved to be happy, and if it wasn't with you then with whoever could and would make her happy. God, just the thought of her with someone else was like being stabbed in the chest, white hot pain shooting up your spine, but she deserved to be happy. You loved her, every part of her, even the side that could and was pushing you away, because that side protected her from all the other assholes out there. You had just hoped you were a special kind of asshole that didn't qualify for that treatment.

"Is she happy?"

**Twenty eight. **

"I…" Rachel seemed completely flummoxed by your question, stumbling over her words to find the right answers. "I honestly, Santana, I don't know. Quinn's best and worst feature is the mask she uses to cover her true feelings. I don't think anyone but Quinn would know if she was happy or not."

You hoped she was happy. You needed her to be happy. You had just hoped that she would have been happy with you. God, were you fooling yourself? Was this all a waste? She didn't want your words, she didn't want you. She had gone out of her way to ignore you, so maybe you needed to move the fuck on.

"I love her, she doesn't know it, but I love her. Brittany's my friend, that's it. Quinn's…she's so much more than that." Shaking your head, you tried to get a grip of yourself.

**Fifty.**

Berry was watching you with sad eyes, and you actually welcomed the hug she gave you. It was comforting, a gesture you had long missed. She was there for you, even if Quinn and Brittany weren't, Rachel was.

That lunch changed things between the two of you. There was a better understanding afterwards. Rachel stopped pushing questions, and you were willing to share more and more with her without her having to ask. It was nice, and you came to the conclusion that you finally had a friend, one you weren't going to screw and fall in love with. That part was very refreshing.

You also changed your stance on things with Quinn. While you wanted to run and beg her for forgiveness, you knew that was useless. She was clearly still angry at you, and that was pretty gutting, but you saw her smiling with Brittany and laughing with Mercedes and you knew she was still the fun, loving Quinn you had fallen so hard for. She was still in there, beneath that cold and solemn mask you always saw, you just needed more time.

There would be no apologises, no pleading looks, no sad eyes, and no wishful thinking. You needed to protect yourself. You were still hoping to tell her everything, but you needed her to come around, to accept that you did only have fifty words to play with. If she didn't buy that, then there was no hope.

Confident you had stopped your pathetic pining, you started making the most of the situation you were in. So yes, Quinn wouldn't talk to you, but you had Rachel. That was enough to put a small smile on your face each morning, and not even the dirty looks for your peers was enough to wipe it off.

You stopped caring what McKinley thought of you, and it wasn't long before you and Rachel were seen in the halls together. She was your friend, and unlike what you had done to Quinn, you needed her to know that she was. It couldn't just be in private, because then it looked like you were ashamed of her, and you weren't. Everyone could think what they wanted to, you were going to do what you wanted regardless.

So talking to Rachel at her locker, eating lunch with her in the auditorium, and saying goodbye to her at her car suddenly became the norm. The shit you took for it was like water off a duck's back. You were completely unfazed. You still had enough words to make things right, and being friends with someone as kind and forgiving as Rachel certainly deserved your time and effort.

She was the only one who was there for you when you needed it, and you were not going to forget that. Your friendship with her, while unusual to most, worked very well for the two of you. She needed someone to see through her bullshit, which you did, and you needed someone to break past your walls. It relied on trust to work, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before that trust was truly tested.

That time came sooner that you thought it would.

"You don't talk much anymore," Rachel said, offhandedly.

As good an actress as Rachel was, she really needed to learn the art of subtlety and lying, because you knew she was just as curious as everyone else. You were actually surprised that she'd waited this long to ask. Before then, you would have brushed her off, but this was perfect timing.

You trusted her with a lot of things, the details of you and Quinn, the regrets and the tears, but this was one thing that could make or break your friendship. Rachel was certainly crazy enough to handle it. The girl thought she was a little bit psychic, she was definitely crazy enough to handle it. Plus, she'd probably believe you, having seen first-hand of the calmer, more laid back Santana Lopez.

That was definitely enough reason for you to trust her with this.

"Monday," you replied, knowing you didn't have enough words to explain it all. You wanted to, and actually wished you could just do it then, but Monday would do.

**Forty seven.**

"Okay." Chewing on her apple, she swallowed and nodded at her lap. "Monday."

Thankful that she had learnt to drop topics when you didn't want to talk about them, you went back to your lunch. Monday was going to be a big day, and you'd need to think carefully about what you said, or rather how you said it. Maybe another note would be affective.

Finishing up your lunch, you let your mind wander through the many ways it could be done, and started gathering your things. Rachel's reaction was the wild card, but given her antics, maybe she wouldn't doubt you for a second. That would make a nice change.

You walked out the auditorium with her, dumping your trash in the bin outside the doors and gave her a slight wave of your fingers. It was enough of a goodbye as any, and Rachel grinned back at you as she turned to leave.

The bell rang and you hiked your bag over your shoulder a little more, looking back round at the rest of the hallway and got ready to head back to your locker. Your stomach was suddenly awash with nerves, and perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to agree on Monday. Maybe you'd have to lie to her.

Biting your lip, you turned to go, but the eyes of one person stopped you, and held you back from making another move.

Hazel eyes, warm, rich, hazel eyes were staring back at you. You must have looked like a fish out of water, opening your mouth slightly before closing it again. It was as if you wanted to say something, but there was no point. Quinn was standing a least ten feet away, leaning against Sam's locker where some of the other glee club members were chatting.

She almost looked as confused as you, unsure what to do with this newfound eye contact. You hadn't looked her straight in the eye in over a month. You hadn't dared look her way in case she broke your damn heart.

That stupid fucking thing.

A heart was one of the most powerful organs in the body, pumping blood to keep you alive, and yet it was so fucking delicate when it came to emotions. Whose stupid idea was that?

Quinn's lips quirked up at the edges, and if you tried hard enough, you could go as far to say it was a smile. As soon as she saw the recognition cross your face, she looked away, and dove right back into the conversation she had been a part of.

Your feet moved you of their own volition, taking you back to your locker. Shoulders bumped and knocked you to the side, eyes glared and watched you with bemusement, voices bitched and sighed as you meandered past, but none of that mattered. None of that mattered at all.

Nothing mattered anymore. Monday was going to be a piece of cake. Telling Rachel would be easy. Nothing mattered at all, not one damn thing, and why? Because Quinn fucking Fabray had just smiled at you. She smiled at you!

Over two months of being ignored, a month before that full of tense looks and heated arguments, and just when you thought she'd given up on you, she smiled!

Holy fuck, that was good news!

That sign, that sign you desperately needed had just been given to you, and there was no denying it. She had smiled at you. She had acknowledged your presence and smiled. Things were back on. Things were very much back on. All you needed was more time. More time for that tiny little smile to become a full-fledged one, and then she'd give you the chance you really needed.

Dropping back against your locker, you tried to contain yourself but you were abuzz with excitement. She was back. Fun, warm, loving Quinn was back, and she had smiled at you.

Now you couldn't wait until Monday.


	4. Chapter 4: Burning In Hell

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Burning In Hell

*0*0*

You wished that Friday night had been the only time the two of you had kissed. It would have made things so much easier. Sadly, that just wasn't the case. The following Friday found you both back in your bedroom, toying with the idea of more, of pushing the boundaries again, and going for a repeat performance.

Thoughts like that had been bugging you all week. You couldn't stop imagining all that Friday night could have been. You had stopped it before things had gone too far, but a part of you couldn't help but ask the question: what if you hadn't?

That was your problem, the unknown. You had your first taste of the forbidden fruit and you wanted more. Kissing those lips had sealed your fate, and you wanted to do it again and again and never stop. They had haunted you, the images replaying in your head, the sounds making you weak at the knees, and your hands mimicking hers on your body. God, it had been killing you, the mere thought of Quinn kissing you again, touching you, panting out your name.

You knew you shouldn't want her, you shouldn't be thinking about her that way, but you were powerless to stop it. So when she suggested that the two of you head back to yours for the night, to 'catch up', you knew the only thing that you could do was say 'yes'.

Denying her would be sacrilegious. Who says no to a fallen angel?

Quinn was flitting from one thing to another, and every so often she would glance over her shoulder at you. Her eyes, those gorgeous hazel eyes were teasing you, begging you to make a move, to kiss her, daring you to corrupt her.

You knew it was wrong. You knew you should stay away from her, keep it restricted to a 'friendship only' evening, but those lips, those eyes. They were calling you in, and with each passing second, your resolve was weakening.

You had tasted those lips and you craved to taste them again. You had felt her body beneath yours, had heard her panting and whimpering in your ear, had smelt fucking sunshine and fresh air overpowering your senses, and had seen her eyes grow heady with lust.

Lust- one of the Cardinal Sins.

It was only fitting that you, Satan as you had so aptly been called, had corrupted the fallen angel. It felt natural to corrupt someone so pure, so innocent. So, you weren't doing anything wrong when you decided to stop this tantalizing dance the two of you were in and approached her, your body pressing into her back. No, you were doing everything right. She knew exactly what would happen the minute she walked through your door, and there was no way you were going to put the brakes on things tonight.

This had been her call; you were just answering her plea.

You wanted her, you needed her. You could not be blamed for your next move, your hands landing on her hips and pulling her body closer. Nor could you be blamed for grazing your teeth along her neck, which she so thoroughly exposed for you.

You were powerless.

Quinn had been teasing you all week, with lustful looks across corridors, gentle touches that lasted a few seconds too long, slight moans when she brushed passed in the hallway. All of it. All of it had been driving you insane. You wanted this, she wanted this. It was time.

To hell with the consequences. To hell with the ramifications. To hell with the fallout. You wanted her. You needed her. It was as simple as that. And as she raised her hand into your hair and pulled your mouth onto her neck again, you knew that she wanted and needed you, too.

"San." Her breathy little moan was the starting gun firing, initiating it all. How were you meant to control yourself when she panted out your name like that? How was anyone meant to control themselves when she did that?

Gripping her waist tighter, you ground yourself into her and began sucking, hard, on her neck, desperate to leave a mark. If she was going to fall from grace, you were damn well going to get the credit for it. There would be no way for her to hide the marks you'd leave on her skin, claiming her as yours. Everyone would know on Monday, and it would be beautiful.

Fallen angel, Quinn Fabray, marked up by Satan herself.

Smirking against her neck, you kissed the purple and red bruise, and turned her to face you, ready to move things on. Quinn was like putty in your hands, completely pliant to your every touch, letting you dictate where her body moved to next. Looking her over, you saw her pupils were blown and she was biting on her bottom lip, all the while her hands were on your waist, playing with the hem of your top. Her back was pressed against the desk, your body trapping her there, and you briefly considered pushing her up onto it and dropping to your knees, but she seemed to be preoccupied on the bed behind you.

"Please," she whispered, leaning forward to catch your lips in hers. It was soft, gentle, and it dulled some of the raging fire burning beneath your skin. Lust was clogging your brain, making you oblivious to everything she was asking of you, and you did the only thing you knew how.

Leading Quinn to the bed, you kissed her hard, demanding her to meet your need half way. She wanted this, that's why she was there, to fuck you. Those pleading hazel eyes were partly filled with lust, and that's all you could understand. Sex, she wanted sex. You could do that. That's all you could do.

Her lips eventually responded, kissing you back with as much force as you, and you groaned at the thought. She had caught up to you, had met you half way, and was ready to move onto the next step. Reaching out, you found the edge of her cardigan, and started to push it off her shoulders roughly, desperate to free her of her clothes.

Leaning her forehead against yours, Quinn broke the kiss and cupped your cheek in her hand. It halted your movements, and you frowned. The fire was still raging, burning you up and consuming you, but she was like water and ice, freezing you and putting it out.

"Please," she whispered again, pecking you on the lips. "Please, San."

You didn't know what she was asking you. You couldn't work it out. She wasn't making any sense. You were giving yourself to her, letting her fuck you, letting her use you for a release, and she wasn't taking you up on it. Nothing made sense. This was what she had been leading up to all week, this was what she wanted. So what was wrong?

Your hesitation gave her some sort of green light and she cupped your other cheek, cradling your face in her hands, before kissing you again. Her lips were soft, undemanding, and so gentle against yours. It was careful, and almost intimate.

That realization had your breath catching in your throat and you clamping your eyes shut. You had worked it out. You knew what she was begging for, and you hated her for asking that of you. It was unfair. It was completely unfair. She had tricked you. She had led you into a trap where there was no way out.

All this time, you thought you were the predator, when in fact you were simply the prey.

She wasn't just wanting sex. She wanted it to mean something. She needed you to open yourself up and let her in. That was the only way things were going to go anywhere.

She needed you to drop the bravado, and let her see that carefully masked vulnerable side you had carefully hidden away. She needed you to open the locked door your feelings were behind and let her walk through it. She needed this to be more than some fuck to pass the time away. She needed you to care about her, as more than a friend, and make this something more than what it actually was. She needed to feel loved, so that this didn't replicate her night with Puck.

You had only shown that side of you to one other person, and she had left you for some cripple in a chair. Handing that power to Quinn had your stomach in knots, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and every muscle in your body ready to fly into action. But, it was those eyes, those goddamn hazel eyes that had you nodding and tearing down your mask, blowing open the door for her to waltz through. They were safe. She wouldn't hurt you.

"Okay," you whispered, trusting her completely.

Quinn leant back and took a careful look in your eyes, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so. The worry lines on her forehead disappeared after a few seconds and she had a small grin playing on her lips as she came in to kiss you again.

This kiss was much more to your liking. It cooled the fire to a bearable temperature, and had you dropping your defences. Where before you would have continued to undress her, as fast as possible, and show her a good time; now you wanted to take it slow, to kiss every inch of skin as it was exposed, and to show her that you were capable of loving someone completely.

It had been Brittany, it had always been Brittany, but now it was Quinn, and you were giving yourself over to her, letting all those hidden emotions seep through your kiss and into her. She didn't want this to just feel like sex, so you were going to do everything to give her exactly what she wanted.

Pulling back from the kiss, you moved the two of you onto the centre of the bed and captured her cheek in your hand. Caressing it with your thumb, you gave her a soft smile, which she returned, and then leant down to kiss the bare skin of her shoulder. Her yellow cardigan was down by her elbow, and you slowly peeled it off, trying to kiss as much of her skin as possible.

You didn't care that this felt more intimate than any of your times with Brittany. You didn't care that you were giving everything you had to someone who had stabbed you in the back before. You didn't care that you were risking so much heartache by doing this.

All you cared about was ensuring that she left your house tomorrow morning feeling as though she hadn't been used, that this wasn't just you replacing Brittany, that you actually wanted her for her. And you did. You didn't want Brittany, you wanted Quinn, and not as a stand in. You wanted her completely.

Taking her arm out the other sleeve of the cardigan, you kissed up her arm and suckled on her shoulder, leaving a little mark behind. The bruise on her neck was a claim, a very public one, but the ones you were going to litter on the rest of her body were your private way of worshiping her.

With the cardigan out the way, and you lips showing their appreciate to her collarbone, you felt her fingers pull at your t-shirt, trying to get it over your head. Breaking away, you let her pull it off, and once again, her eyes darkened at the sight of you. That thought was like a dash of alcohol being dropped in the fire, igniting it further.

Reaching round, you found the zip on her dress and slowly pulled it down, continuing to kiss your way up her neck. Once the zipper reached the bottom, you took her hands in yours and pulled her up onto her knees. From there, the two of you pulled the dress up over her head and dropped it to the floor.

Despite having seen Quinn in less in the locker room at Cheerios or during the many sleepovers you used to have with Brittany, you were still caught staring at the sight before you. She was beautiful. She was absolutely gorgeous. Her pale skin was so striking, completely unmarred, and looked so soft to touch. You couldn't help you hand from reaching out to lightly run a line from her navel up to the middle of her bra, revelling in the feeling of her skin.

Quinn watched your movements, her skin breaking out in goose bumps at your touch, and she whimpered, shuffling closer to you. You felt, rather than saw, her hands start to undo the buckle on your belt, and you fought the hitch in your throat as she worked your jeans off you.

The two of you were left in only your underwear, kneeling on the bed facing one another, waiting for the other to make the next move. She was still looking at you with complete trust and adoration, and you wondered if her mask had come off, too.

Not wanting to face the reality of those emotions just yet, you took her face in your hands, leaning your forehead against hers, and kissed her softly. It was slow, careful and void of any of your darker intentions. She kissed you back with equal tenderness, and mewled when you pulled back.

You wanted to see the next part, to watch her as you moved your fingers down each side of her neck, see her reaction as they moved along the tops of her shoulders and stopped under her bra straps. You were asking permission, looking at her longingly, and you licked your lips in anticipation.

Quinn's hazel eyes were darker than before, watching you the entire time, and with a slight nod of her head, you pulled the straps off her shoulders, and let them hang loose over her arms. The other you, the masked you, would have unclasped the bra first, but the unmasked you wanted to take your time. There was no need to rush, you had all night.

You kissed the newly revealed skin, and furrowed your brow when Quinn reached behind her to take her bra off. She unclasped it and let it fall right off her arms, into the gap between your bodies on the bed. Shifting closer on your knees, your stomach touched hers, and you hissed at the heat radiating off her body. She dropped her head onto your shoulder, looking downwards at your hands, and you so desperately wanted to look down, too.

You were behaving yourself. You weren't going to leer at her. That would certainly kill the mood. You wanted to worship her. Gawking at the breasts you had been checking out long before the two of you had ever kissed was not worshiping. That would be rude, and tonight you were going to be anything but that.

Quinn seemed to be aware of your internal debate and softly planted kisses on your neck, working her way upwards. You dropped your head backwards, to grant her more access, and then scolded yourself for doing so.

Tonight was about her. It was all about her. She needed to feel loved, to feel special. This was not about you.

Turning her head, you kissed her harder than before, and finally let your fingers graze their way up her navel. She groaned into your mouth, her tongue gliding against yours, as you cupped her in your hands. Squeezing your thighs together, you let out a low moan, and kissed her again, desperate for more. Lowering you head, you took her in your mouth, the other hand worshiping her other breast, and sparks shot straight down your spin when she cried out above you.

"Fuck, San, please," she whimpered, her fingers threading in your hair, tugging on them as your tongue flicked against her skin.

Quinn's hands wasted no time running from your hair down your back to your own bra strap, and she had it off you in seconds. You would have been impressed if it wasn't for the perfect sight before you. She pulled you back up to her lips, kissing you with force, demanding you to kiss her back with equal fever, and her hands immediately went to your chest.

She was exploring, testing, teasing you, her nimble fingers working you over, and once again you had to remind yourself that it was about her tonight. It wasn't about you. Your realise was inconsequential. Hers was what mattered, and you needed to get back on track.

"Q," you moaned, trying to get her attention again. Her eyes were mesmerized, watching her fingers and hands cup and grasp you, and you were desperate for her to continue, but you needed to stop. You needed to take control again. "Q, please."

She looked up at you, worry flashing in her eyes, and you mentally kicked yourself for making her think she'd done something wrong. She wasn't doing anything wrong. She was doing everything right, and that was the problem.

"Let me…please, let me…" You tried to finish your sentence, but you didn't know what the words were meant to be. What were you trying to say? Let you do what? Make love to her? Fuck her? Ravish her? Worship her? What was it going to be?

Unable to answer your own question, you ploughed on ahead, taking Quinn's hands in yours, entwining your fingers together, and you shuffled your body closer. Your stomachs were pressed together, and the more you moved, the more you felt her skin touch yours. Her breasts, those goddamn perfect breasts, brushed against you, and you bit back a moan. She seemed to be doing the same, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop the groan vibrating from her chest. It was sexy as fuck to see her try and restrain herself like that, but you wanted her to break free, to cry out, to whimper and whine, to moan and groan beneath your fingers, your lips, your tongue.

With little effort on your part, you managed to get the two of you lying back on the bed, your body lying over hers. Your hands were still entwined, and you had her pinned. Given Quinn's need for control, you expected her to fight you on this, but she didn't, she seemed to enjoy it. Her breathing picked up, her chest panting wildly beneath you, and you were transfixed.

"Kiss me," she cried, gripping your fingers tighter. "Please, kiss me."

You dropped your head so your forehead was leaning on hers and ghosted your lips over her own. She tried to reach up to kiss you, but you pulled back, teasing her. You wanted to work her up, to have her ready and willing before you moved on to taking off those last two scraps of material keeping your lower halves apart.

"Stop teasing me, please, San. Kiss me." Those hazel eyes were seeking you out, begging you to do as she'd asked, and you licked your lips slowly, watching them darken as you did so.

This kiss, this next kiss was going to start it off. Yes, you had gotten this far, but there was still time to stop. When you kissed her, there would be no stopping. One kiss, one touch, and you would be handing yourself over to her fully.

"You're sure?" It was considerate of you to ask, something you never did. Your masked self was shaking her head at you, grimacing at the thought of asking such a question, but you had to. You needed to know she was ready to do this. Her body may have been ready, but mentally, she might not have been.

"Positive." If it wasn't for those hazel eyes, completely certain in their gaze, you would never have gone ahead. Nevertheless, you saw the trust in them, and you knew she was just nervous, rather than scared. She wanted this, she was just not sure what to expect.

"Tell me to stop," you pleaded, unable to hold it back. Those words had been sitting in your throat, desperate to get out. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

You wanted her, you wanted her so fucking much, but this was going to change things. This was going to destroy all hopes of friendship. This was going make it impossible to go back to what you once had. You didn't want to lose that, you didn't want to lose her.

If you lost Quinn the same way you lost Brittany you'd never forgive yourself. These were your friends, you weren't meant to fuck them. But then again, this wasn't fucking. You weren't fucking Quinn. No, you were doing something so much more intimate than that. You were offering yourself up to her, giving her everything you had.

She had the power to make or break you. She had all the power. When all was said and done, she had a piece of you, a piece no one else would ever get. Brittany wormed her way through your defences, but Quinn asked you to take them down for her, and you did.

"Don't stop," Quinn whispered, shaking her head. She leant up, closing the distance between you, and you closed your eyes, just waiting to feel her lips on yours. You weren't disappointed.

She started slow, waiting to see if you'd respond, and it only took a second for you to kiss her back. Her lips, wet and warm to the touch, softly kissed yours, tenderly gliding over them, and every so often she would lick at your bottom lip. It was enough of an incentive to let yourself sink into the kiss, and give her everything she wanted.

Her breath ghosted over your face, and her eyes shut as you moved to kiss her jaw. You licked at her skin, enjoying the feel of her wriggling about beneath you, and continued downwards. You tried to lick and kiss all of her, each and every part of her skin as you moved lower, coming face to face with her breasts again. You wanted to burn your lips into her skin, have her never forget where you had been, where you had kissed her. You wanted her to think about your lips on her, later, when this was all over. You wanted her to imagine it, again and again and again.

You kissed each and every rib, and then left a plethora of kisses down her sternum as you sunk lower. The lower you went, the more her body twitched, her muscles quivering at your touch, and the more she whined. She was watching you, taking shallow breaths as she did so. Her hair was messed, her lips swollen, her eyes dark, and you were fighting the urge just to take her right there. You could get her off without even removing her underwear, it was definitely possible, but she wanted special, and you did, too.

Peeking your tongue out, you licked your way along the top of her underwear, starting at one hip and going to the other. Her hips jerked upwards and her legs widened, welcoming you in, and it took all your self-control to stay focused. Your fingers hooked under the edges and ever so slowly, you began to pull her underwear off her, kissing each inch of skin that was exposed.

You bypassed the one destination you were desperate to kiss, to taste, to lick, and made your way down her thighs, stopping at the top of her knee. Leaning back, out of the way, you pushed her legs together, groaning as you watched her squeeze her thighs tightly and drop her head backward on the pillow, and dragged her underwear the rest of the way. You dropped them behind you, completely uninterested in them now that they were off, and turned back to the blonde lying naked on your bed.

Deciding to even the scale, you removed your own underwear, watching her watch you. With your underwear joining hers on the floor, you turned back to give her all your attention. How could you not? She was perfect, absolutely flawless, and she was waiting on you to make the next move.

Running your hands up her smooth legs, you stroked her skin and pushed them apart, moving your body in between them. You kissed her hip bone softly before grazing your teeth downwards and heard her cry out. Caressing her thighs, your fingers moving higher and higher with each intake of breath, you kept your eyes glued on hers. She was waiting for you to glance down, to look at where you were so desperate to look, and you swallowed thickly, your breath picking up.

It suddenly felt like your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest, trying to break free from the chains you had it wrapped in. Each thump was resonating in your ears as you looked at her, and you counted to ten, trying to stop the shaking in your hands, trying to calm the nerves, before glancing down.

"Oh God," you groaned, your chest heaving as you dropped down, your forehead resting on the inside of her thigh. She was beautiful, so fucking beautiful. So beautiful that your thighs clenched together in need and you had to fight the urge to grind into the bed.

"You're perfect," you whispered, unable to stop looking and stop licking your lips. You wanted to taste her so fucking bad, to touch her. She was right there. She was right there and her hand was entwining itself in your hair, and then your lips were kissing the inside of her thigh and you felt like you were going to come from just looking at her.

You moaned deep in your throat when you finally closed the distance, your tongue touching her first. Her legs clamped round your head, and her fingers tugged harder on your hair, her panting and whimpering growing with each flick and lick of your tongue. She was canting her hips, and you had to try and hold them down, keep her steady, as you fully immersed yourself in her.

She tasted fucking amazing. Fucking fresh air, sunshine and amazing. That's what she was. That's exactly what she was, and you couldn't get enough. You licked, nuzzled, enticed and teased, all the while listening to her respond accordingly. It was fucking beautiful, hearing her lose herself like that.

The restraint she had earlier was gone, and she was crying out with each flick of your tongue, moaning loudly with each slow stroke, whimpering with each kiss, and panting every time you stopped teasing her. She was like your own personal orchestra, tuned to perfection, with the crescendo building and building after each touch.

Tugging on your hair harder, she dragged you up her body and kissed you quickly. She was everywhere, her hands on your body, caressing your skin, her tongue in your mouth, licking your lips, her legs wrapping round you, pulling you closer. She was everywhere.

"Please, God, please, Santana," Quinn's words were husky and breathless, her lips continuing to ravage yours.

You couldn't take it anymore. No more begging. You had to give her what she wanted. While you wanted to drag this out as long as possible, you knew you couldn't. She would grow impatient, she would become angry, and it would ruin everything you had worked so hard for. You needed to give her exactly what she wanted, no more stalling.

You nodded into her kiss, your lips meeting hers with as much passion as she was. The kisses were wet, sloppy, and consisting mostly of tongue and teeth, but they were filling the desire you both had to consume the other. Neither of you could get close enough, kiss hard enough, fill the need you had for one another, and it was driving you both wild.

Putting an end to all the teasing, you wasted no time in letting your fingers seek her out, groaning loudly at how wet and warm she was. Fuck. She had you whimpering, matching hers as your fingers sought out exactly where she needed you. You had kissed her, you had tasted her, you were touching her, and in a moment you were going to be inside her. She was giving you everything. She was giving herself to you, and you fought back the tears at such a thought.

Quinn's hips bucked against your hard, desperate for you to finally do it, and you took one more second to look at her. Those eyes, Christ, those eyes. They told you everything you needed to know. So many emotions were swirling in them, but none of which said 'don't' or 'stop'. She really wanted this, she really wanted you.

You cried out with her, lost in the feeling, the mere thought of her, her around you, her moving against you, her crying out your name. So fucking warm. So fucking wet. Everything you'd fucking imagined and more. She felt fucking unbelievable. She looked fucking unbelievable. She was fucking unbelievable.

You told her so. You whispered it against her skin, on her lips, in her hair, into her ear, across her neck. You told her. You told her how beautiful she was, how gorgeous she looked, how fucking stunning she was.

She met your words with moans, whimpers and groans. She replied with her body, canting upwards into your hand, kissing your lips, biting your shoulder, licking your neck, sucking on your skin. She whined for you. She panted for you. She gave herself fully to you.

You felt her tightening, her hips losing their rhythm, and then her hands gripped your neck and her lips were kissing you hard, biting at your bottom lip. She threw her head back, letting your lip go, and her moan vibrated from her throat, loudly filling the room. Her body continued to cling to you, her legs keeping you in place, and her arms holding you tighter.

You were completely mesmerised with the sight before you, the sound of her moaning out your name, the feel of her pulsating around you; it was killing you. It was driving you closer and closer to the edge, and if you just moved your leg slightly you would follow.

God, you wanted to, so badly, but you couldn't. This wasn't about you. This wasn't about your release. This was about her. It was always about her. Following quickly behind her, while it would feel amazing, would be selfish. She wanted this, she needed this to expunge all memories of Puck and his pathetic attempts at making her come. You needed to let her have this, this untainted memory.

So, rather than shift your body closer to hers, you rolled to the side, bringing her with you. She had untangled her legs from yours, but was still holding on tightly with her arms, keeping you close. You didn't mind. In fact, it felt nice, leaving a warmth burning in your chest.

Quinn's eyes were closed, her lips parted and her breathing was still erratic, but she was coming back down from her high. You could feel her body relaxing, her muscles loosening, until she was lying almost dazed next to you.

Seeing her like that, so vulnerable and so trusting, had your heart picking up speed again. She trusted you to make this something special for her, and you prayed to God that you had. You wanted her to think back on this as a good moment in her life, not something to be ashamed of. Yes, you were the school bicycle, and Satan, but you did have the capability to think past yourself and unto others.

You continued to watch her, her chest rising and falling under the harshness of your black sheets against her pale skin, and you wanted to detach yourself from the situation. You wanted to close the door inside your head, lock it shut and pretend it had never been opened, but those hazel eyes were on yours again, and she was leaning over to kiss you.

"Thank you," Quinn whispered, nuzzling into your neck. "I wish my first time had been like that," she confessed, nestling in further. "I wish it had been with you."

The weight of those words hit you like a battering ram to the chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. You couldn't even begin to process what she had just said to you. It was too much. You wanted this evening to be special, but for her to wish that...you couldn't, you just couldn't deal with what that meant.

As if she knew what she'd done, she began to distract you. Her hand was suddenly running through your hair, her lips ghosting over your skin, and you arched into her touch, unable to stop yourself.

You wanted to reply with some flippant comment. You wanted to put a stop to her looking at you that way. You wanted her hands to stop their tender perusal of your body. You needed her to go back to being your best friend, Quinn. You needed her out your head, your heart, and everywhere else she looked to be taking up residence.

Instead, she kissed your collarbone and worked her way up to your jaw. You thought she was going to kiss you goodnight, leave it at that, but her kisses changed direction and went back the way she came. They didn't stop at your collarbone, though. Continuing down your chest, you felt Quinn's body saddle up to yours, one of her legs hooking over your own, and her hand run over your abdomen under the sheet.

She was doing what you never expected her to do. She was going to touch you. You had tried to make it all about her, so that she wouldn't return the favour, as it were. You had tried so hard to tire her out, to ensure she would keep her hands to herself. The determination in her eyes, though, told you she was going to do this regardless of her fatigue.

You had opened yourself up, she was through the door, but now she was locking it from the inside. You couldn't have her doing that. You couldn't have her getting in your head like that. It was fine for you to kiss her as though you loved her, worship her body as if it would grant you forgiveness for your sins, and bring her closer to heaven than ever before. It was fine for you to do all that.

It was not fine for her to do the same to you.

Things had been going so well, you had kept yourself in check, just allowing your emotions, your heart, to lead you, but now was the time to give your head control again. You battled with the thought of removing her hand from your navel, and you fought with the idea of pushing her body away. However, your heart won each and every time. You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

There she was, the fallen angel, touching you, looking at you as though she loved you. Why would you turn that away? How could you even think of doing so? She cared, on some level she cared, and she was showing you just how much. She wasn't fucking you like you were some cheap whore. She wasn't using you to get herself off. She wasn't pretending you were someone else. She was giving herself to you.

You didn't deserve it. You didn't deserve her. You were never going to be good enough. Yet, she wanted you. She wanted you and all your flaws at that very moment and for that reason alone, you let her hands continue their path along your body.

You let her fingertips graze lower and lower while her lips left open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You let her nip at your neck, leaving a mark just like you had left on hers, as she descended past where you wanted her most and began lightly glossing over the insides of your thighs. You let her chuckle into your neck as you bucked your hips in aggravation. You let her bite your lip and tug, turning your head to face her, while her fingers travelled higher and higher. You let her smirk like a cocky bastard when you groaned out at the first touch.

"Fuck," you whimpered, shuddering against her body.

It was too much. The fire was back, burning hotter than ever before. It was too hot, too wild. You couldn't control it. You couldn't control the need, the flames, from travelling further, taking over. You were alight with need, desperate for release, bucking shamelessly into her hand. She was ice and water, the only thing that could put the fire out. She had the power to stop it, to turn the sweltering heat back down to a cool temperature you could handle.

"Please," you moaned, catching her lips in yours. She nodded against you, kissing you back, and moved her body over yours, settling between your legs. You wasted no time wrapping them around her, pulling her closer, kissing her harder, whimpering for her touch.

Her mantra of teasing and no pleasing was out the window. You had set it on fire and were watching it burn with a satisfied smile on your face.

Biting her lip, you tugged harshly, and she hissed in return. Her eyes were dark, the familiar warm hazel gone, and you couldn't tear yourself away from them, watching as she rocked into you, bringing you closer and closer. Those eyes, those goddamn eyes reflected every emotion crossing your face, every crease of your brow, every heady look, every flick of your tongue against your lips.

Among the flames, you saw it. Everything was burning down around you, but it was clear as day, untouched from the fire you had unleashed.

You felt the tears gather in your eyes, the fire burning you too much to take, and that look, that look haunting you. This had to stop. You couldn't. You couldn't see that and then continue like everything would be back to normal tomorrow. It was in your eyes, it was in hers. Everything had changed. You were exploding, the fire hitting volatile emotions, and you cried out, only to have her lips quell it.

Quinn suddenly increased her pace, her body rocking harder and faster against yours. Her fingers- God, her fingers- sought out exactly where you needed her, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, working in complete sync with the rest of her. Your body was alight in anticipation, your hips bucking wildly against hers, your nails scratching at her back, and your throat panting out incomprehensible words.

The fire, once a small flame, had turned into a great wild fire, completely demolishing everything in its path. Your body was burning down, caving in on itself, and her touch was acting like lighter fluid, making it worse. You needed it to end. You needed release. You were so close, so fucking close. Only a few more rocks against you, just a few more and that would be it.

Bucking harshly, you felt it, and the fire became a raging inferno. Ducking down, you felt Quinn's lips kiss yours harder than before, and then she rocked against you one last time as you fell apart.

Wave after cool wave hit you, producing a guttural moan from your throat, and the fire was washed away, completely gone. You were no longer burning, but drowning. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. You were awash with euphoria. She had saved you from self-combusting, but had thrown you in the ocean with an anchor round your ankle.

Gasping for breath, you latched onto her like she was a life raft. Your hands wrapped round her neck and you kissed her again, your tongue gliding against hers. You took a breath, breathing in the air in her lungs, and moaned low in your throat.

Intense, that was the only word you could think of. It was intense. She had built you up, set you on fire, watched you burn, and then put you out, almost drowning you in the process. She had thrown you over the edge of the cliff, and pulled you from the crashing waves below.

Quinn's body lay motionless on top of yours, and you felt your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest again. She had to feel it, too. She had to have seen what you had. She just had to. Not wanting to see that look again, you closed your eyes and sought out her lips again.

She kissed you back, lightly brushing her lips against yours, and it was enough to light a new flame. This one, though, was one that would land you in trouble. It burnt deep in your chest, and with each tender kiss, it grew in strength. Unlike the last one, this fire didn't need to be put out suddenly. Instead, it needed to be unleashed, let out, where it could burn freely. You were never going to do that. You were never going to give it the light of day. Instead, you were going to starve it of oxygen and wait for it to die out.

You couldn't, you just couldn't fall for your best friend. That wasn't in the cards. Sex never made you sentimental, which meant whatever you had buried last week had reared its ugly head, and wherever these feelings were coming from, they weren't new. No, they were familiar, and warm, and didn't look to be going anywhere.

Quinn rolled onto the bed next to you, and pulled you closer, so that you were nestled against her. Cuddling, you were cuddling. This wasn't what you did. You never cuddled. Only Brittany was fortunate enough to cuddle with you. It was Quinn, though, and that was reason enough to wrap your arm over her waist, bury your head in her neck, and close your eyes.

You trusted her, with everything. The door was locked from the inside, and she was standing in the room with your deepest and darkest emotions. It was over. The fire inside your chest was roaring with each touch her fingers made, caressing your bare hip, and you knew you had lost.

Every fight, every battle, it had all been futile. The war was over, and you had lost, severely. You liked her. You liked her as more than a friend. You were on that slippery slope, close to falling. You had shown her your most vulnerable side, and she had kissed you softly and held you. She had made you feel loved. She made you feel worthy. It had cemented those feelings, making your chest ache at the very thought. You liked her, so fucking much.

Lightly kissing her neck, the skin warm and soft to the touch, you inhaled fresh air and fucking sunshine, and allowed yourself one small smile.

It would be over tomorrow. Reality would make itself known, but for tonight, for just one night, you could lie in her arms and pretend she liked you back. When tomorrow arrived, your mask would be back up, as would hers, and you both would pretend this never happened. But, for tonight, you could let yourself admit what you never wanted to.

You liked her, you were falling for her, and you would do anything she asked of you. She had you, completely, and she didn't even realise it. She would never realise it. If she asked, if she asked at that very moment, you would confess everything. You would tell her, with no thoughts of the consequences.

She would need to ask, though. You could never tell her otherwise. You could never say those words without prompting. You could never admit to having made the same mistake twice, and this was a mistake. You had only guaranteed yourself heartache, but with her arms wrapped around you, it seemed worth it. She was worth it. She would always be worth it.

You wanted her, as more than a fuck buddy, as more than a best friend. You wanted to fall in love with her and you wanted her to love you back.

Right then, it felt like she could love you, and that was enough to keep you from facing the truth.

*0*0*


	5. Chapter 5: All Was Right In The World

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

All Was Right In The World

*0*0*

Monday.

The big day.

You sat in your car and watched the students slowly make their way into McKinley, and sighed. Friday had been such a good day, what with Quinn smiling at you, that you thought Monday would be a breeze. However, the endorphins from those hazel eyes looking at you and the tweak of her lips had worn off, and you were left facing the reality of the situation.

You had to tell Rachel Berry that you could only say fifty words per day.

Given that Rachel was a little crazy herself, you weren't worried about her reaction, but more how to tell her. You didn't exactly have the luxury of waffling on until she understood. You had to be direct, to the point, and hope she wouldn't interrupt.

There really was no way for you to tell her without writing most of it down. That felt a bit like a cop out, though. You had never said the actual words, and you needed to. You had come to terms that this was something you had to endure until it disappeared, but having never verbally told anyone, it still felt a little surreal. How you had managed to pull that off until now was beyond you, but you had, and that bubble was going to finally burst.

On one hand, though, you were thankful that it was Rachel you were telling and not Quinn. Given how Quinn took your note, she probably would have beaten you to death had you said that to her face. No, Rachel was a much safer person to tell. She, at least, wouldn't kill you. Most likely, she'd think it was a prank. She definitely she wouldn't hit you.

All weekend you had gone over the various methods of telling her. Do you use all fifty words to explain? Do you write her a note much like Quinn's? Do you just blurt it out? Do you gently lead her into it? How could you even do that? Would you have enough words? Would you even be able to answer the questions she had? And if she took it badly, could you argue your case? Could you convince her it wasn't a prank? Could this ruin your friendship? Would you let it?

The only thing you accomplished with these questions was giving yourself one killer headache.

Due to the fact that your options were so limited, you decided you were going to lay out some ground rules first, then tell Rachel, and just deal with her questions as best you could. It was the only solution you could think of, and given how little time you had left to think of it, you really couldn't afford to be picky.

Mentally checking over the plan one last time, you nodded before getting out your car. You headed towards school and quickly worked your way through the hallways, towards your destination. You needed to prepare things for lunchtime, as that seemed like the best time to tell Rachel, so you had until classes began to get things ready.

Rachel would be expecting you in the auditorium at lunch, like usual, but given how your nerves already had you feeling queasy, food wasn't going to be an option for you. Hell, you could hardly force down breakfast that morning, your stomach awash with nerves when you woke up.

Practically speaking, after school was the best time to tell her, but she had Glee this afternoon, and you really couldn't wait until after that to spill the beans. First class hadn't even begun and you were already chewing on your lip anxiously, wiping the sweat of your palms on your skirt, and fidgeting away with yourself. You just wouldn't make it until after Glee club.

Therefore, lunch was the best time, and if all went wrong, you could easily avoid her for the rest of the afternoon. If her questions became too demanding, or the situation became too stressful, for both of you, classes meant you had no option but to end things when the bell rang. It gave you limitations that you so desperately needed for a situation like this, and you were, for once, thankful there would be afternoon classes.

Finishing up in the empty classroom you'd commandeered, you threw your rubbish in the bin and looked over everything you'd need for later. They were blunt, exactly what you needed, and you hoped Rachel would actually sit through everything. Hiding the fronts of each card, you went to your locker and shoved them inside before anyone could see.

You were ready. You had everything you needed to tell her. Now you just had to wait until lunch.

Christ, time couldn't move slower if it tried.

*0*0*

Your morning classes dragged on, and with each passing minute, you could feel the nerves building in your stomach. It made sense you were so worried, but that didn't mean you had to endure it. Of course, you wanted Rachel to believe you but it shouldn't be this worrying. You needed someone to believe you, yes, especially after Quinn. She still wasn't convinced, and she was meant to be in love with you, so what were the chances of Rachel trusting you on this?

You hadn't attempted to tell anyone else because during that first week of fifty words everyone thought you were losing your mind. You could hardly be blamed for giving off that impression, as you're still pretty sure you have lost your mind, but it was clear no one could really be trusted.

It took a lot for you to tell Quinn, and it was taking a lot more for you to tell Rachel. If you weren't one hundred percent sure you could trust her, you wouldn't dare fill her in on your sudden silence these last few months.

That spoke volumes in itself, and you couldn't help but wonder when your most trusted friend became Rachel Berry. Had you told your old self that, she would have laughed in your face and then gone all Lima Heights Adjacent on you, and rightfully so. You were still confused as to how the two of you became friends.

Walking into the auditorium, cards under your right arm, you sighed and headed up to turn the stage lights on. This was why you became friends with her, this right here. The auditorium. It was her safe haven, and she was willing to give it up to you for nothing in return. Girl was secretly a saint, you were sure of it.

You placed your cards on top of the piano, which was sitting centre stage, and dumped your bag by the stool. Flicking on the lights, you watched the place light up, and then dragged a chair from the wings right into the middle. It would take little convincing to get Rachel to sit there. She always wanted to be on stage, even if she wasn't performing.

With everything ready, you took a seat and waited for the girl of the hour to finally arrive. You had managed to get out of class early, so it was a given that she would arrive after you, but with each passing second, you were convinced she wouldn't show. It was stupid, and foolish, to think such things, but your brain wasn't thinking properly. You were too amped up on the possibilities of rejection.

As if the gods were listening to you plight, you heard the sound of the auditorium door opening and silently sent one final plea for it to be Rachel before turning to look.

"Hey!" It was Rachel, thankfully, and she was trotting down the aisle towards you, a bright smile adorning her lips, and her eyes alive with excitement.

"Hi," you replied, giving her a genuine smile.

**One.**

She was already making you feel at ease, and she hadn't done anything yet. She definitely had some special superpower or voodoo magic, you noted, watching her come up onto the stage with you.

"What's going on?" she asked, her smile falling slightly, as she looked for your lunch, which was absent from your hands. It was shoved in your bag, probably crushed to death from the weight of your books, but it wasn't like you were going to be eating it anyway. Not unless you wanted to vomit all over the place. Stupid fucking nerves.

Giving Rachel a soft smile, one you hoped would ease her worries, you approached her with a piece of paper in your hand. You were prepared. You had planned for this. Everything was going to be okay.

_Sit, please. _

"Oh. Thanks, I guess." Rachel took a seat in the chair and glanced around the stage. "This is very odd. What's going on?"

You hated that she asked that question, because you didn't have a card for that. Groaning, you grabbed your bag and pulled out a notepad and a pen. You quickly scribbled her your reply and shoved it into her hands, going back to stand by the piano.

Trust her to already be throwing a spanner in the works.

"You asked me why I don't talk much anymore. This is me explaining," Rachel said, reading your note aloud. "Oh, I had forgotten about that." From the look on her face, she had actually forgotten and that just peeved you. You had spent your weekend freaking out, and she hadn't even remembered.

Whatever, you had her interest now, so you had to get on with it.

Grabbing the white pieces of A3 card you had stolen from the art department that morning, you held them in front of you and read over everything quickly. It all looked correct, and with Rachel's curious eyes watching you, you knew you couldn't stall anymore.

Plucking up the courage you needed to get through this, you turned the first card round for her to read.

_First things first: DO NOT INTERRUPT ME WHEN I'M TALKING! _

"Geez, San, there's no need to yell," Rachel said, frowning at you after she read it over. You quickly shot her a pointed glare and she nodded, waving her hand to hurry you up. Flipping the next card, you waited for her reaction.

_Second thing: I will beat you Lima Heights Adjacent style if you tell a soul about any of this! _

"Seriously, Santana? I thought you knew you could trust me. I won't tell anyone. Though, I will say, I'm highly intrigued by all the dramatics. It adds such flare!" You couldn't stop yourself from growling at her and she squeaked and waved her hand in submission. "Okay, okay, you're being serious. I'm sorry. Continue, please." Damn right, you were being serious.

You watched her settle back in her chair as she waited for you, and your hands froze on the cards. You really were going to do this. You really were about to tell someone, someone other than Quinn. Good lord, how the hell did you get yourself into this mess?

_Third, and last, thing: I need you to believe me. I need someone to believe. So please, please don't dismiss this as a prank. It's not. I promise you. _

Rachel opened her mouth to speak but froze, and glanced up to look at you. As if she could see the desperation in your eyes, she closed her mouth and nodded, giving you the go ahead. Dropping your cards onto the piano, you took a seat at the bench and fidgeted with your hands in your lap.

This really was it.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to ignore the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears and just focus on the words you needed to say. They were so simply. It was only twenty letters, rearranged, divided, and stuck together again. It wasn't that hard. You could do it.

"I can only say fifty words per day. After fifty, I can't speak at all." You swallowed loudly, and ploughed onwards, knowing you were almost done. "I don't talk because I don't want to waste them."

**Twenty six.**

You tried not to rush your words, and were relieved when it didn't come out as some gobbledegook Rachel wouldn't have been able to understand. Instead, she seemed to have grasped what you said fully and had opened her mouth to reply. You watched her glance from you to the cards on the piano, and you just knew she was thinking about the third card.

"Fifty words?" she questioned, her voice unwavering.

You nodded in reply and waited for her next question. You knew there would be one.

"That…that actually makes a lot of sense," she said, frowning at her lap. "You stopped cursing at people. You stopped insulting anyone. You let people get away with insulting you. You didn't waste them. Who _did _you use them on?"

"Quinn," you said, as if that was enough, and it was. Rachel's posture stooped as she slouched on the chair and she nodded at you in understanding.

**Twenty seven. **

"That's really sweet." You couldn't help but frown at that. Sweet. Sweet was not what you were going for. "Does she know?"

Nodding, you went back to fidgeting with your hands. Talking about Quinn was not what you had planned on doing. Though, you shouldn't have been surprised with Rachel's curiosity. She knew you were head over heels in love with Quinn, so of course she'd want to know if the blonde knew about your fifty word problem.

"She didn't take it well." It wasn't a question. You nodded anyway, to reaffirm her point and shrugged. Playing it off wasn't possible, but you could try. "Oh, San, I'm sorry," Rachel said, advancing on you. She completely ignored your affronted look and hugged you regardless. "Is this why the two of you are fighting?"

"Partly."

**Twenty eight.**

"I can help," she suddenly declared, pulling out her megawatt smile as she did so. "I can help you with Quinn. Together we can work out some way to patch things up between you. Now, I know you haven't told me everything that has happened, but I do think I know enough. She no doubt believes this whole situation to be a joke, which makes matters worse, but in time, I actually think we could get her to come around."

You didn't get a chance to reply before Rachel squealed with excitement and started pacing the stage. She had immediately jumped into planning mode, and was monologuing like this was part of a play.

"Something that day told me I needed to forgive you and offer you friendship. I have always been a little psychic, so when you came in and apologised I just knew that I couldn't ignore my senses. I had to forgive you, and this is the reason why!"

Her excitement wasn't rubbing off on you, and as you watched her dance about under the bright lights, you briefly wondered if you should tell her to stop. However, maybe her help wouldn't be all that bad. She was always good at planning, and you didn't have any ideas on what to do next.

Quinn's smile gave you hope, but you weren't going to hold your breath. You needed a plan of action, and if Rachel had one, then hell, you'd be crazy to turn that down. Tuning back in, you watch as Rachel frowned and shook her head.

"Fifty words, my, that's not a lot." She pouted at the thought and dropped her hands onto her hips. "Gosh, if I could only say fifty words a day I'd probably die. I am of the belief that my long-winded and verbose speech actually improves my lungs' capabilities to breathe. Therefore, if I was to suddenly stop, I would die from lack of oxygen. I'm sure of it."

"You're freaking crazy," you blurted out, wondering where the fuck this side of her had been hiding for the last few months.

**Thirty one. **

"Me? You're the one who can only say fifty words per day!" she cried, pointing at you. "And don't waste them like that. You'll need them. And in answer to your next question, why, because you need to come to Glee this afternoon and ask Mr. Schue to re-join."

"But I can't sing," you pointed out, thinking that was self-explanatory by now.

**Thirty five.**

"Yes, Santana, I'm very much aware of that. Just tell him that you've had a really bad virus and singing is too much for you right now, but you plan on singing once your voice is back to one hundred percent."

You opened your mouth to speak but Rachel shushed you abruptly. She pointed at the pad of paper and pen in your lap and waved her hand for you to write it down. If she wasn't taking this so well, you would totally bitch her out, verbally, for such a move, but you were interested to see where she was going with this.

_And what do we do if I don't get my words back? _

Rachel pursed her lips and shrugged. "I really hope that won't be the case. They have to come back eventually. I mean, this is a lesson, Santana. You're being taught a lesson. Once you work out what the lesson is, and rectify whatever mess you created in the first place, then things should go back to normal. That's how these things always work."

_In the movies! _- You scribbled, frowning at her.

She chuckled and rolled her eyes at you, which just irked you even more. How could she be so blasé about this? This was serious business. You were practically mute.

"Yes, it does always turn out well in the movies, but that's because life has a funny way of working like that, too. Now don't roll your eyes at me, Santana, I'm right. Sometimes, for whatever reason, things turn out all right in the end. This will be one of these moments, just you wait and see. As soon as you've learnt whatever it is you're meant to, your words will come flooding back and we won't be able to shut you up again. Just give it time, and start thinking about what it is that you need to learn."

You shook your head and started doodling on the note pad. Start thinking about what you need to learn, what does she think this was, a lifetime movie special? You had no idea what you needed to learn, you had already learnt everything. You knew not to waste your words, you knew not to take folk for granted anymore, and you knew that you had to tell those around you how much they meant to you before it was too late. What else was there to learn?

"So this is what I'm thinking," Rachel began, spinning round to you. "This afternoon, we go to Glee early, I tell Mr. Schue that you want to return, explain the details and say you're a little nervous about returning given your quick exit. I'll tell him that you can't sing just yet, but that you should be involved in Glee so we can learn the dances, and that you're having private singing lessons with me on the weekends to strengthen your voice. That way, it shows you're dedicated, willing to participate, and eager to return."

_But I'm not doing any of that! _Holding up the notepad for Rachel to read, you watched as she rolled her eyes this time and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, I'm aware of that, Santana, but he isn't. Surely you could lie to the man, it's not like you haven't before. Anyway, I'm sure with my persuasion he will understand and accept you back with open arms." Turning back to you, she was smiling brightly, and you fought a smile yourself. She was trying to help, and it was kind of her, but you knew it would almost be torture sitting in that room with them.

You quit Glee so abruptly because it was hard to sit back, watch them all sing and dance, so carefree and relaxed, while you couldn't utter a word. Things with Quinn had imploded on themselves, Brittany was giving you a wide berth, the rest of them were staying out your way, and you were completely alone. You couldn't even sing your damn feelings out. So really, there was no point of you being there. You didn't contribute so it only seemed fitting that you left.

No one even bothered that you did so; not even Quinn, and you were screwing her back then.

"Don't frown like that, Santana, I'm trying to help you," Rachel said, coming to take a seat next to you.

_Sorry. I do appreciate it. Just thinking about how the others will take it. Don't think many will welcome me back. _

You hated having to write your worries out like that, but it was the only way. You needed your words for later, so that would have to do. Seeing them like that, though, completely out there for anyone to read made your hands clench and your brow furrow further.

"Okay, yes. I do not expect them to take you back with open arms, but they'll put up with you. Worst comes to worst, they might kick you out. However, I don't see that being a problem as we technically need your voice and dance skills come nationals this year. If we get to nationals that is, but still, a positive outlook never hurt anyone. I mean, I've always had a positive outlook on things, and look where that has got me! I'm Captain of the Glee club, I'm on the- What? What does that say?"

_STOP talking! _

"Honestly, there really is no reason to yell. I am sitting right here," she huffed.

Wanting to make sure she was still on your side, as it were, you tore out that page and started writing on a new one. You were pretty sure she was going to give you a lecture about the wasting of finite resources and how a tree had to be cut down for you to doodle aimlessly, but your next question managed to put her mind back on track.

_How will Glee help me with Quinn? _

Rachel read you question over for a few moments before leaning against the piano, playing with the hem of her jumper. "Do you ever find yourself just looking at her?"

That question took you by surprise, and you didn't know where she was going with this, but you nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed for having to admit doing so.

"Well, my guess is that she does the exact same thing. In fact, I know she does. I've seen her glancing at you behind her locker, sneaking peeks when you pass her in the hallway, and-"

"Don't," you whispered, shaking your head. Grabbing the notepad, you wrote down why and passed it to her.

**Thirty six.**

_Don't get my hopes up, please. _

"Right, of course. My apologies. As I was saying, when my crush is in the room, I find myself unable to stop looking at them. It just happens, without my volition. Then, on the rare occasion, I get this urge to talk to them. We need her to feel that. We need her to want to talk to you. Just give it time. She'll see you, the Santana I know, and she'll be unable to stop herself from coming over. Trust me on this."

_Your crush?_

You couldn't help smirk as Rachel blushed and shook her head wildly. "Oh no. No, that is not the topic at hand. Maybe another day."

_I won't forget._

"Brilliant," Rachel deadpanned, rolling her eyes at you again.

She leant her body into yours, dropping her head onto your shoulder, and you briefly wondered if you had hurt her feelings. Giving her a one armed hug, she smiled at you and then bounced back, lifting her head and asking you if she could ask you more about your lack of words.

_Go for it. _

"How do you know when you've used fifty words? I mean, you must have realised after several days that you couldn't talk much. But how did you know it was only fifty? Did you count them?" You could hear the curiosity and the awe dripping off her words. Given how well she took the last part, telling her you hear voices as well really shouldn't be that hard.

_I have this creepy voice over that counts upwards after I'm done speaking. _

"What does the voice sound like? It is male, female, ambiguous? Do they have an accent?"

_I tell you I'm hearing voices and you want to know if they have an accent. Seriously. _

"What? I think that's important to know. Last time I heard voices, it was me, but a much older version of me, calling out like her life depended on it. She kept saying 'Say no, Rachel! Don't abandon your dreams, Rachel!' and I have no idea why. I can only assume that she mistakenly passed her message along in the wrong alternate universe, which makes me worried about what my other me is out there doing."

There was so much in that last sentence that needed to be commented on, you didn't know where to begin. Alternate universes? Passing on messages? Other Rachel Berrys out there? No, there was too much to address. You couldn't. You just couldn't.

Shaking your head, you tuned back in to Rachel's ramblings about Glee club that afternoon. She was catching you up on what you had missed in your absence. You tried to stay focused, and actually listen to the words coming out her mouth, but you were distracted, and she could see it, too.

"What's that face for? What's worrying you?" You hated how attune she was to your facial expressions, but only because she could see through your mask. You didn't need one more person being able to do that. Then you'd never be able to hide.

Sighing, you scribbled your reply and waited for her response.

_What if this doesn't work?_

"Then we'll try something else." Licking your lips, you nodded, and began thinking five steps ahead in case Quinn wasn't bothered by your presence in Glee club. You needed to have at least one back up plan, and then maybe the knots in your neck would ease out.

"Come on," Rachel began, "stop worrying. I've got your back for this. While that may not mean a lot, given that I am at the bottom of the social totem pole, I do like to think that I can be of great support-" You interrupted her by shoving the notepad into her lap.

_Stop it. Your support means a lot to me, honestly. _

Rachel smiled at you and tore out the page you'd just written on. You frowned in confusion, especially at her wasting paper like that, when she folded it up and put it in her pocket.

"I'm keeping this," she declared, proudly. "Those words, although written down, mean more to me than you'll probably ever know."

You dropped your head bashfully and shook it, unsure what to do in reply to that. It was sweet of her, and you wondered how you could ever have been so cruel as to torture her every day. How could you have been such a fucking asshole?

_My turn for a question, _you wrote, taking the pad back from her. _How come you're not freaking out about this? _

"Oh. My great aunt Aggie, the gifted psychic in the family, always used to tell me that sometimes strange things happen, and you're not to question them, just accept the situation at hand and let it run its course." Rachel was alive with excitement as she spoke, using her hands to help describe everything.

"While she was eccentric at best, she had some amazing stories to tell. I never doubted a word she said, as I am partial to the physic gift myself, therefore took her words as gospel. You should see the two of us at poker, we wipe the floor with people. Hence why Noah never invites me to play strip poker with him. He always ends up naked, and as I'm sure you know, there's nothing too impressive there. Boys and their toys, though." Rachel rolled her eyes and turned to you, completely oblivious to your discomfort at the mention of Puck's appendages. "So, shall I meet you at your locker before Glee?"

You nodded, still trying to wipe that mental image from your brain, and made a reminder to never play Rachel at cards. Happy with your reply, she smiled back and gave you another hug, bulldozing through all the boundaries you had built up in regards to physical contact.

You had been sloppy with Brittany, simple touches turning into more, before more was sex, and you were in love. Then, you were reckless with Quinn, knowing that each lingering touch could lead to you getting your fingers burnt, and it did. You certainly didn't need to add Rachel to your 'Fucked and Fell in Love With' list. No, you weren't going to make that mistake a third time.

Returning the hug briefly, you cleared your throat and then went to grab your lunch. Rachel followed suit and sat back in her chair, lunch on her lap. You were relieved to note that the nerves from earlier had completely vanished. Good news for you, because you were starving.

The remainder of your lunch was spent in silence, and you weren't surprised. That was probably the most either of you had spoken, or in your case written, to each other since this arrangement began. You were all out of conversation. Thankfully, it was a comfortable silence, giving you both time to think through everything that had just been said.

When the bell finally rang, Rachel walked you back to your locker and gave your arm a quick squeeze, lingering a moment before smiling brightly and walking away. You knew she had been waiting for you to change your mind about Glee, and then would have been the right time to tell her, but you just couldn't.

You wanted Quinn to notice you. You wanted to see her more. You wanted to be able to spend time with her, even if thirteen other people had to be in the room as you did so. You just wanted her acceptance, and this seemed like your best shot of getting it. If the Glee club would let you join again, that is.

God, since when did your fate lie in their hands? How was that even fair?

Maybe they'd remember that you apologised and everything would be okay. Or maybe not.

*0*0*

Like you agreed, you met Rachel at your locker before Glee and followed her there. She was the first one in the choir room, like usual. Past experience told you that Mr. Schue would be the last to arrive, which meant everyone would see, and no doubt hear, the conversation that would follow. You bit back the grumbling words ready to spill out and decided it best to try and steer clear of everyone until Mr. Schue arrived. Unfortunately for you, Rachel wasn't having any of that.

"Come on, get in here. Please do not tell me you're scared of the Glee club," Rachel called, waving you into the room. You were standing in the doorway, still unsure, when she got up and physically dragged you inside. "Seriously, Santana, you'd think I was throwing you to the wolves."

Wasn't she, though? After all, the Glee club and you weren't on the greatest of terms. None of them seemed to buy your apologies, or they just didn't care, and none of them seemed even remotely bothered by your sudden lack of speech. Perhaps you were being unfair, however. Maybe they had issues of their own to worry about, or maybe they thought you were turning over a new leaf. Whatever the reason, none of them had bothered to speak to you in the last few months, and you suspected they were done with you completely.

So, in your mind, you were just about to be thrown to the wolves. You were literally sitting in the lion's den, waiting for their return, and you knew it wouldn't be pretty.

The more you sat there and thought about it, the more you started to freak out. Your breathing had picked up, your palms were sweaty, and you could almost feel the room spinning. Good lord, you were going to have a panic attack. The Glee club, _Glee club, _had reduced you to someone who had panic attacks. Hell no.

"Water," you croaked, rising to your feet and practically sprinting from the room.

**Thirty seven. **

You had left your things there, which you hoped Rachel would notice, as you did intend to go back. First, though, you needed a drink to clear your drying throat, and maybe a bit of air to clear your head.

You had a right to be nervous, but really, you were Santana Lopez, how awful could it be?

Not wanting to give that too much thought, you nursed the water bottle you'd stolen from the Cheerios' lounge, and nipped out the gymnasium door for a breather. The clock on the wall told you that Rachel would now have company, but there was still time for you to gather your wits about you.

It was just what you needed.

Eventually, you made your way back, knowing that everyone would be there by now. You counted each step, the nerves creeping back up your spine and encompassing you in fear. You took a deep breath, shook out those disgusting thoughts, and held your head up high.

God dammit, if you were going to be terrified on the inside you had to at least look fearless on the outside.

Turning back to the choir room, you hung in the door, and caught sight of Rachel's gaze. She beamed proudly at you, and raised her hand high in the air, interrupting Mr. Schue completely. The hand was just a formality, she clearly wasn't waiting to be called upon.

"Mr. Schue, if I could have a moment of your time, please," she announced, unfazed by the sag in his shoulders when she spoke.

"I'd really like to get started. Can we talk after? We have a lot to get through if we want to make it-"

"Let me just interrupt you right there, sir. What I have to say will help ease the strain the Glee club is currently facing, and I do believe it could help our chances of making all the way to Nationals this year greatly. Therefore, I insist that we talk now."

"Just do it, Mr. Schue. You know she won't shut up if you don't," Mercedes piped up, crossing her arms over her chest as she shot Rachel an annoyed look.

"Why, thank you, Mercedes, for your support." You bit back the chuckle as Rachel answered dryly, visibly fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Fine," Mr. Schue conceded, waving his arm at Rachel. "What is it?"

"In the hallway, perhaps?" Her eyes shot to you and you nodded, signalling you were ready before moving slightly further round the doorframe, almost out of sight.

You watched Mr. Schue roll his eyes behind Rachel's back as they headed towards you, and your dislike of him grew with each step. Maybe you'd slash his tires later, teach him a lesson. Rachel was only trying to help, and it did benefit him, so really, the jackass should at least give her a chance.

Turning into the hallway, Mr. Schue finally spotted you and his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. You had to fight back the grimace threatening to break free.

"Santana, it's great to see you! Are you coming back to Glee?" Mr. Schue spoke as if you weren't in his Spanish class every week, and the desperation rolling off him in waves was really testing your mask. One quick glance in the choir room, though, where hazel eyes were watching curiously, had that grimace beaten down and a sickly sweet smile plastered back in place.

"Yeah, please. If I'm welcome,"

**Forty two.**

"Of course you're welcome! Don't be silly. Come right on in!"

"If I may, Mr. Schue, I feel it best you know that Santana isn't quite up to singing as of yet," Rachel interjected, halting his movements towards the door.

"Oh?" He looked at you curiously and you were gearing yourself up to reply when Rachel jumped in for you.

"Yes. Unbeknown to most of us, she caught a horrific viral infection several months back, and ever since then it has affected her voice severely. The doctor told her she may never talk again if she's not careful. Due to that, she has kept almost a vow of silence, rarely speaking, and definitely not singing. This was why she quit Glee so abruptly. She couldn't tell us why because of her voice, and she quit because she couldn't sing. Thankfully, time heals all wounds, and her voice has started to improve, but it is not quite up to one hundred percent. For this reason, she won't be singing, and most likely won't be talking, but whatever gusto she lacks in here she will make up for in my bedroom." You shot Rachel an incredulous look as Mr. Schue's eyebrows rose up at that statement. Rachel, God bless her, was oblivious.

"Every week we have signing lessons, or rather, we try. So, while Santana may not be able to fully participate, I only think it's fair to let her come back to Glee and learn all the dances for the competitions. If she can only sing at nationals, then so be it, but she should be with us every step of the way!"

Mr Schue didn't quite know what to make of everything Rachel had just said, from the looks of things, and you found yourself waiting with bated breath for him to give his verdict. If you had him on side, it would be easier walking into the choir room, knowing there was support behind you.

"Right…I had no idea you were so unwell, Santana. I hope your voice returns, soon. And, welcome back to Glee club, I guess." Waving at the doorway, he ushered the two of you in.

"Laid it on thick," you muttered, following behind Rachel towards the empty seats you were both occupying earlier.

**Forty six. **

"Oh shush, it worked, didn't it?" It did, so really, you shouldn't have been complaining. But honestly, that was some lie you now had to uphold. Girl could have given you a heads up, at least. Would a forewarning really have hurt?

The two of you quickly sat down, and you tried hard to ignore the many confused faces looking at you. It was only a matter of time. Any minute now, they'd voice their opinions and you'd be walking back out the choir room door with your dignity in shreds.

"Alright guys, good news! Santana is joining us again!" Mr. Schue's warm welcome was met by silence, effectively killing his happy smile, and dropping a lead weight in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn't have eaten lunch. "Come on, this is good, show some joy!"

"How come she gets to just walk right back in?" Tina asked timidly, shooting you nervous looks. Well, she was still scared of you. That counted for something, you guessed.

"This doesn't feel like good news," Mercedes barked, shaking her head vehemently. "New Directions has been free of taunts and venom, but with her arrival, that'll all change."

"Speak for yourself, Mercedes. I still have to endure your venomous attitude every week," Rachel pointed out, turning to the girl in question.

"Oh please, that's nothing compared to Satan over there." You sunk back in your seat at that. Satan was one name you didn't want to go by anymore.

"Santana happens to be my friend, and I won't have you talk about her like that."

"Friend? Please, Rachel, stop kidding yourself. She's using you. She needs you for something, or this is all just one big prank."

"I do not have to justify my friendship to you, so kindly keep out of it. And you can keep your poisonous words to yourself." Leaning over, Rachel muttered to you under her breath as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "If anyone deserves to lose their words, it's her."

_Pretty sure she would say the same about you, _you noted, writing it as a text message in your phone and showing her the screen. Rachel glanced over, read it quickly and scowled at you. However, there was a slight twitch of her lips as she fought back a smile.

"So much for our friendship." You chuckled and tuned back in to Mr. Schue, who was now defending his decision to let you come back. He kept saying how he couldn't see a problem as you were sick and would be unlikely to argue with them. That threw them for a loop, but he recited Rachel's spiel almost verbatim and you were actually a little impressed he'd listened to all that. She seemed to be, too, if her expression was anything to go by.

"So wait, she's not even going to be singing? Then why the hell is she here?"

"To learn the choreography," Mr. Schue replied, sounding tired of this already.

"Why aren't you singing?" Finn piped up, leaning round Rachel to ask.

"San can't sing," Brittany declared, looking at everyone as if that was obvious, and you were thankful for her interruption. You really didn't want Finnocence breathing in your direction, let alone talking to you.

"Yeah she can, Brittany. She sang with us at the beginning of the year. She sings really well," Tina replied, smiling softly at the blonde.

"No, she can't sing anymore."

"That's correct," Rachel interjected, smiling brightly to the room. "Santana has had a very bad throat infection that has made it almost impossible for her to sing at the moment. However, her and I are having one on one sessions to get her voice back to perfection, and I predict her singing on the stage with us at nationals."

"-Regionals," Mr. Schue corrected, waving his finger at Rachel as he did so.

"Nationals," she repeated, completely unfazed by his interruption. "So given that Santana and I are working together, there should definitely be some improvement with her technique. If it goes as plan, I assume all of you will be lining up to have me teach you. I am a great teacher, after all. Isn't that right?" she turned to you and winked subtly, causing you to smile charmingly at everyone else.

"Absolutely."

**Forty seven.**

The room seemed to grimace with your response, minus Brittany, and you knew Rachel was playing it up to get them to stop. The more she made herself out to be 'crazy-Rachel-Berry' the more likely they were to stop asking questions. It really was ingenious, and you wondered if Rachel had been using this trick all along.

"My condolences," Mercedes said, looking straight at you as she crossed her arms over her chest and sunk back into her chair.

You took that to mean the conversation was over, and that you could stay. Mr. Schue seemed to think so, too, as he immediately began today's lesson. Good to see some things never changed. Writing his word on the board, you listened as everyone threw out their suggestions and comments, and sunk back in your chair with a content smile in place.

It felt good to be back, even surrounded by those fools, arguing over whom was the biggest diva and therefore more deserving of a solo at regionals coming up. Yeah, it definitely felt good to be back. So much so, the saying 'time flies when you're having fun' applied, because before you knew it, Glee was over. Then again, you had spent the first half of it arguing your place there.

You hadn't contributed much at all, only nodding or shaking your head when it felt appropriate, but it was something. At least they had let you stay. Rachel seemed to think so, too, as she sung 'I told you so' under her breath, as if reading your mind while everyone made to leave. That had you taking a step away from her, shooting her a hesitant look. If she really was psychic, or worse, a mind reader, then the two of you really needed to come to some arrangement about whose thoughts she could and couldn't listen to.

Having stepped back from her, you bumped into Puckerman as he was grabbing his bag off the floor. He glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question, and you blurted out your apologies, which only made him frown deeper at you.

**Forty eight.**

"What's up with you, Lopez? You won't stop saying sorry. It's freaking me out. Where's that badass gone?" You weren't sure how to answer that, so shrugged and tried to make it seem like nothing. Whether Puck believed you, you don't know, but he nodded in return and thankfully moved on. "Well, whatever. It's good to have you back, even if you can't sing for shit." He lightly punched your shoulder, and smirked at you as he waltzed away. You didn't even get a chance to hit him in return, scowling at his retreating back.

Well, at least all seemed right in the world there.

That couldn't necessarily be said for the next person that was approaching you. The bubbly blonde bounced down towards you and stopped just in time. As always, she was invading your personal space, but after so many years of her doing so, you really couldn't be mad at Brittany for that.

"It's great to have you back, San," she sang, smiling happily at you. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"Secret?" You had far too many secrets, many which Brittany was aware of, so she could have been talking about any of them.

**Forty nine.**

"You, Quinn, your inability to confess your feelings, the train wreck that was," she said, shrugging like it was nothing. "It's nice that Rachel's helping you, though." Plastering a smile on your face, you nodded and tried hard to keep your frown at bay. Hearing Brittany refer to what you and Quinn had as a train wreck stung.

However, it was actually like a train wreck, which you hated to admit. Everything had been running smoothly for the two of you, and then she slipped up, and you freaked, then you lost your words. From that point on, you were an unstoppable train just waiting to derail or crash. As it happened, you crashed, hard, because you couldn't tell her what she needed to hear.

Brittany gave you a little wave and left, flouncing out the choir room. Rachel was quick to come over and check on you, asking if everything was okay. You didn't quite know how to answer that. Technically, yes, but the sting hadn't worn off yet.

You didn't expect Brittany to support what you had with Quinn, but the way she dismissed it like it was nothing didn't feel right. Then again, Quinn probably had told her there was nothing between the two of you anymore, so you really couldn't be too mad at her for speaking the truth.

Pouting a little, you nodded in return to Rachel's question and glanced over to the last remaining blonde in the room. She was oblivious to your gaze as she spoke animatedly to Artie and Tina, laughing at something they'd said. Before you knew what you were doing, you'd taken a step towards her, only to be pulled back by a sharp tug on your forearm.

"Whoa, the plan is to let her come to you. Not the other way around," Rachel whispered, glancing round to see if anyone else was listening. "I promise you, it'll work, but only if you let it. Give her time." You nodded in understanding, but longed to go over and talk to Quinn still.

She was so close. You could smell freaking fresh air and sunshine. It had you almost inching towards her again, your fingers desperate to reach out and make contact. It would just be one touch. One touch, skin against skin. You hadn't touched her, innocently and intimately, in months. Having her this close was torturous, especially since you could close the distance. If only she wanted you to.

Swallowing nervously, you sent Rachel a thankful smile for her support and began gathering your things together. The sheet music Mr. Schue had left was on the piano, and you grabbed some for Rachel and yourself before handing it over to her. She grinned and thanked you, as you put yours in your bag and slung it over your shoulder, ready to go.

Turning back around, you noted Quinn was no longer by Artie and Tina, but in the doorway, facing everyone. She was biting her lip, a nervous habit you had seen her do hundreds of times, and then she stopped upon seeing you staring at her.

"Bye," she called, and it could have been directed to anyone of them, but she was looking straight at you as she spoke, and that had your heart doing summersaults in your chest.

"Bye," you murmured, almost scared if you spoke too loud she'd startle like a wild animal.

**Fifty **

Those hazel eyes, those goddamn hazel eyes lit up with your reply, and you watched her fight a smile. She nodded a few times, acknowledging the other member's goodbyes, but her eyes didn't leave yours. You grinned outright, happy to finally have attention, and she blushed in return, smiling openly. Trying to hide behind her hair, she gave one last goodbye as she made her exit, looking back over her shoulder at you as she did so.

God, she was beautiful.

She looked alive, those eyes warm and happy, her smile bright and cheery, and it was all directed at you. Fucking hell, today was glorious. Best Monday ever.

"She said bye!" Rachel squealed next to you, tackling you in a hug. You laughed right along with her, her excitement infectious and nodded, fighting back the overwhelming happiness threatening to bring you to tears.

Christ, she hadn't said more than one word to you and you felt like crying. What the hell were you going to be like if she ever touched you again?

Probably die. It would be the most amazing death, though.

Friday- she smiled.

Monday- she said goodbye, blushed, _and_ smiled.

What the hell was in store for Tuesday and why couldn't it come any faster?

Again, best Monday ever, and that thought had you skipping to your car with a crazy grin on your face. No one could destroy your happiness. No one. Wasn't even worth trying. You were invincible. She made you fucking invincible.

God, you adored her.


	6. Chapter 6: Among the Landmines, We Dance

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Among The Landmines, We Dance

*0*0*

Bedding Quinn Fabray had to be, without a doubt, the best thing you'd ever done. It was a lifetime achievement, a fucking honour, and you were flying high on the euphoria of it for weeks. Knowing that you, and only you, could get that close to her, get to see her so wanton and free was the high of all highs. It gave you a cocky little step in your walk, and a smugger smirk anyone at McKinley had ever seen.

She was all bashful and shy, acting like nothing had even happened, but you knew different. You knew that if you let your fingers caress her hip when you passed, she'd corner you in the Cheerio's lounge later and kiss you senseless. You knew that if you stretched extra provocatively in practice, she'd beat you to your house and almost take you against your car. You knew that fallen angel Quinn Fabray was an absolute minx.

It was perfect.

She kept up with you, intellectually, physically, sexually, and it was a match made in heaven. Quinn was so hung up on the idea of hiding what the two of you were that you knew you'd never have to label anything, and that was fucking ace.

You liked her, but you were loath to admit that.

The first night you spent in her arms was the last. Every sexual encounter after that ended with her leaving your room either right after or before you woke in the morning. It was some unspoken rule between the two of you, one you needed.

You were not going to get caught up in the tangled web she was weaving. No way. Brittany had trapped you once, never again. You'd learnt your lesson, and were happy to just go with the flow.

Yes, your heart would beat a little faster every time she entered a room, and yes, you spent hours upon hours wondering what you would do with her when the two of you were alone, but you were putting all that down to the extra dose of lust she seemed to have prescribed.

So, of course, you weren't thinking about activities that had you both fully clothed, and of course you weren't thinking about actually taking her out, in public, like a date.

Please, you weren't an idiot.

You were Santana Lopez, Satan, you didn't do that shit. You would never do that shit, and you thought Quinn was on the same page as you. She seemed to be happy with all the sex you were having, and she didn't seem to mind your one track mind. So why did she have to complicate things? Why did she have to ask the one question you never wanted to hear from her lips?

"San, wait," Quinn mumbled, pushing on your shoulders as she broke your kiss. Another Friday night was being spent on your bed, keeping up with the unbroken track record the two of you had started. "What…what are we doing?" She was breathless, looking as gorgeous as ever, and you almost gave her an honest answer. Almost.

"Well, I was kissing you, but now we're talking about feelings and shit." This was not what you needed. What the hell was she doing? Since when did she care about labelling? Who had she been talking to? Was it Brittany? Brittany pushed you for this last time, surely Quinn knew not to make the same mistake.

"Don't be an ass," she muttered, rolling her eyes at you. You wanted to be offended, but couldn't find the energy to do so.

"Then don't ask stupid fucking questions." And they were stupid fucking questions. She needed to avoid them. They were landmines, hidden in the sand, and she was dancing across the beach like it was an average sunny day. Girl didn't know she was about to be blown away, and not in the fantastic innuendo way either.

"Let me up," Quinn commanded, waving her hand at you to move. It took you by surprise, and you frowned, shaking your head.

"No." You were not going to let her start this discussion and then flee. She'd stepped onto that beach and now she had to find her own way off of it.

"Let me up," she repeated, her tone growing more impatient.

"Why? You wanted to talk, so why are you running away?" You had to ask, you had to know.

"I'm not. I just don't want you touching me." Her hazel eyes were steely cold, mask back in place.

"You weren't thinking that a few seconds ago." It was a cheap shot, but you tried. She had been melting into your touch, mewling out your name and grinding up into you. Now she wanted to talk. What the fuck was up with that?

"But I'm thinking it now, so get the fuck off me."

"Fine," you huffed, pissed that you had to let her go. You weren't even going to touch on the fact that it hurt to have her say she didn't want you touching her. Nope, you were ignoring that completely.

"Don't hate me, San," she mumbled, straightening out her clothes. It would be the only straight thing about her.

"I don't," you grumbled, hating yourself more than anything. You couldn't have the conversation you wanted without it exploding in your face, you knew that. But once again, she was dancing around in among the landmines, and you were powerless to stop her.

"I just…this is confusing. I don't want to ruin our friendship," she explained, as if you weren't already aware of that fact. You were completely aware of that fact, most likely more so than she was. You had already walked this path with your previous best friend, and knew what lay ahead. She had no fucking idea. "We're best friends," she added, as if that was to help solidify her case.

"We could be more than that," you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders.

"What?" The surprise and shock was evident in her tone, and it had you shrinking away from her.

"Never mind," you replied curtly, moving to pick up the cushions and pillows the two of you had kicked off the bed.

"No, I heard what you said, and I want you to explain it." Of course she did.

"Not happening."

"Why do you always do this?" she groaned, frustrated. You hated her looking at you and shrugged, trying to play innocent.

"Do what?"

"Clam up! It's like trying to get blood from a stone. You don't talk about things that make you even remotely uncomfortable, even if the outcome has the potential to make you happy. You're stuck being miserable because you don't share, you don't talk, and you don't let people in."

She was teetering very close to those fucking landmines, and didn't seem to even bother. You bit back the venomous reply you were desperate to spit out and went for a more tactful response.

"Just because I'm not shouting my feelings from the rooftops does not mean I'm miserable." Quinn scoffed at you and shook her head, determined to be blown the hell up. You could only warn her so many times.

"Who are you kidding? You are miserable, Santana, and you have the ability to change that, but you don't." You couldn't argue with that, because she was right. If you had shared your feelings with Brittany, things might have been different between the two of you. Instead, the blonde couldn't even look you in the eyes. And now, you were repeating history.

"Talking about feelings and shit is a waste. It's fucking stupid," you lied, unable to stop yourself. "It doesn't solve anything." It would only lead to heartbreak. You knew that. You had been there. You were too late with Brittany, and by the time you had shared your feelings she had moved on like you were nothing. No. You weren't going to do that with Quinn.

"You're wrong, and you know you are. All it would take is the odd moment of hearing you express some kind of emotion or feeling, and you'd find people warming to you."

"Why the fuck would I want that?" Letting people in was your biggest mistake. Brittany was proof enough for that. Adding Quinn into that mix didn't help matters. You were a fucking idiot letting this happen again. Letting people in always left you getting hurt.

"Because you're lonely, and don't you dare lie to me by denying it. You are, you're lonely. Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you think I didn't connect the dots that the only reason I was even invited round here in the first place was because Brittany was gone? You needed someone, anyone, and you picked me to fill her space. Though, I didn't realise you were literally trying to replace her."

"It's not the same so don't even fucking go there." And it wasn't, because with Brittany, you just weren't ready to come out. Given that Hudson solved that problem, fucking asshole, you were out but you no longer were thinking about Brittany as the blonde in your prom photo or kissing you at graduation. No, that was entirely different blonde, one who looked to be getting angrier by the second.

"What do you want from me?" Quinn asked, rising to her feet and crossing the floor. She stopped centimetres from you, completely invading your personal bubble, and she repeated her question. "What do you want from me, Santana?"

You wanted her. You wanted her officially. You wanted to be able to kiss her outside the confines of your bedroom or in secluded classrooms. You wanted to hold her hand and walk down the freaking hallway like some sickly sweet couple. You wanted to take her out on dates, make her smile, make her laugh and just fucking make her happy. You wanted all of that.

"Nothing," you replied, shaking your head. "I don't want anything."

"Fine," Quinn said, straightening up, her no-nonsense tone in place. "I'll see you tomorrow." She didn't even glance your way as she grabbed her things and headed for the door.

The slamming of it shut matched your foot stepping on the landmine. The second you removed it, the second you accepted your feelings for her, it would blow you into a thousand pieces, destroying all your hard work. You had locked away your feelings, had tried to keep them buried, but just like this landmine, they were going to explode. It was only a matter of time.

She was destroying you, shooting you to smithereens, and she wasn't even around to clean up the mess.

Of course she wasn't.

She didn't care.

She'd never care.

*0*0*

You repeated that thought every night before falling asleep, and almost believed it. You were so close to letting her go, to moving on, when it happened. It changed things, and it made it so you were never capable of going back.

You wished you hadn't heard her. You wished she hadn't said it. You wished she had fucking meant it.

You knew, deep down you knew she didn't, and you knew it was a mistake.

You were back at square one, drowning in your feelings for her, and fighting to stay above water to continue this precarious dance the two of you were doing. It was an endless cycle, doomed from the beginning, and you could do nothing but sit back and watch it unfold before your eyes.

You had stepped on the landmine, and now it was time to watch it blow.

*0*0*

It was accidental. You knew it was, she knew it was, but neither of you were willing to talk about it. Talking about it meant admitting that it happened, and that would be like opening the gates of hell and letting the demons out. It was never going to fucking happen.

She didn't mean it. She couldn't have meant it. It was an unheard of emotion coming from Ice Queen Fabray. She was incapable of feeling that; like you were incapable of talking about your emotions. Those things went hand in hand, so of course the two of you were going to pretend she hadn't just cried out your name in ecstasy and followed that up by three little words that had struck the fear of God into you.

"I love you," she'd whispered, nuzzling into the skin of your neck, kissing you softly. She was blissfully unaware of the tension in your body, the fear spiking up your spine, and the harsh breaths you had taken in shock.

"What?" you croaked, pulling back to see her hazel eyes alight with euphoria. She was still floating, far, far away from you and reality. Your question crashed her back down to Earth, though; plunging her in an ice cold bath, causing her to freeze.

"I…I didn't…I mean…" Those goddamn hazel eyes were fear ridden, her body rigid and fixed. She didn't know what to say next, her mouth opening and closing a few times. She was looking at you, imploring you to make the next move because she was drowning in fear before your very eyes.

"You…you…what?" Your brain was not processing her words. You'd heard them, you'd felt her lips burn them into your skin, and you'd seen her unmasked and in all her glory as she let them slip between those glorious lips of hers.

She couldn't have meant it.

Her mask may have been lying on the floor next to her clothes, but she couldn't have meant that. She didn't. She didn't love you. That wasn't possible. It was a mistake. Post coital bliss overtaking her brain and making her think she loved you. She only loved what your body could provide, orgasms, she didn't love you, Santana Lopez, the second in command, the resident bitch. No way could she have meant those words.

Attempting to push your body off hers, you stalled when Quinn's hand came up to grasp your cheek. She still looked like a deer caught in headlights, skittish and scared, but there was something different, something unknown lurking in the shadows. Deep within those pitch black pupils of hers held something more, something dangerous, and you were suddenly the one caught in headlights.

"You didn't mean that," you gritted out, trying hard not to nuzzle into her touch.

She kept watching you, hey eyes unwavering in their gaze. It was off putting, and had you wriggling to get free of it. Sliding away from her, you settled on your side of the bed, tucked under the sheet and waited. She had to say something. It was her turn to speak. You had made your move, now it was hers.

Instead, the silence grew between the two of you like a chasm. Apparently, she didn't think words were needed, either that or she'd suddenly gone mute. You couldn't stop the glare from taking over, burning your anger into the adjacent wall, as you waited for her to fix this.

The tension clogging the air was making you angry, and the awkward position you were huddled up in was causing you to get frustrated with her. She had caused this, not you. You shouldn't be the one to fix it. Hell, you had already tried, and she hadn't said anything in return. You'd given her an out, all she had to do was agree. What was so hard about that?

"San," Quinn whispered, her fingertips caressing the top of your arm on show. Her voice had you turning to look, to see those goddamn hazel eyes honing in on you and making it impossible for you to look away. "Would it really be so bad if I-"

"Stop it, okay? This is sex. This is just sex. Leave your emotions at the door. We're best friends. That's it," you barked, vibrating in anger. How dare she toy you along like that.

She knew, she had to know that there was a warmth growing in your chest, a warmth only for her. She had to know, she did. She had seen you, unmasked, defences down, door open, and she'd revelled in the unprecedented access to you. So why was she playing with you like this? Why was she pushing you off the landmine, ensuring your untimely death?

Looking back up at those hazel eyes, the light from them was gone, and her mask was back in place. You were shut out again, left to fend for yourself. The room was suddenly a little chilly. Given that she had resorted to her old methods, you did, too. Masked but undressed, you flounced out the bed and went to the bathroom.

Slamming the door behind you, your chest ached and you fought back the onslaught of tears trying to escape. What the fuck was wrong with you? Why were you crying? You had done the right thing. She hadn't meant it. She hadn't. She was confused. She had to be confused.

You needed a minute, or a century, before heading back out to her. You splashed your face with water, admired her handiwork left on your skin, and willed your chest to stop aching so. You had made the right decision, laying things out like that. If you hadn't, you were only going to get your fingers burnt. The warmth in your chest was proof of that.

It may only be a small flame now, but in time, it would burn you down to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes. You couldn't let that happen. You had to protect yourself.

Finally gearing yourself up, you exited the bathroom and expected to see the blonde dressed and back in your bed. Instead, she was gone; not a trace of her in sight. The warmth in your chest, however, was not.

You hated it, you hated it with a passion, and you hated her for encouraging it. You hated her so much for doing this to you, making you care about her, like her, possibly love her. She was evil, cruel and so fucking horrible, but you ached for her return, and you couldn't stop yourself from curling up in the spot she'd vacated in your bed, and hugging the pillow that smelt of her closer.

Yes, you fucking hated Quinn Fabray for making you love her when she'd never love you back.

*0*0*

To say things were awkward after that night was an understatement.

Quinn avoided you like the plague, keeping her distance as best as possible, and went out of her way to miss your normal rendezvous times. It left you bitter and alone, pining, yet again, for a blonde girl to jump back in your bed. Really, you were a pathetic mess.

You were waiting it out, knowing her resolve would slowly weaken before making your move. That time came after Cheerios practice Thursday afternoon. You wanted her to come over tomorrow night, to pick up where things had left off, but without confirmation you assumed she'd be a no show. She had ditched you three times already this week, so what was to say she wouldn't do the same on Friday?

There was no way you were going to stand for that. You waited until everyone had left, leaving the two of you alone. She was avoiding your eyes, constantly looking everywhere but at you, and you'd had enough. Rather than do the one thing you should have, actually talking to her about what happened, you closed the distance and kissed her.

Her lips knew yours too well not to kiss back, her body so familiar with this motion not to melt into yours, and her arms so used to wrapping round your neck that you were not surprised when they weighed down on your shoulders. God, you'd missed those lips.

It had been less than a week, but you couldn't fight the longing in your chest every time you saw her, the ache every time she avoided you, and the pout on your lips when she stood you up. No, you missed her, so fucking much, and were not ashamed to accept that fact.

"Come over tomorrow night?" you asked, breaking the kiss.

Her eyes were glazed and she looked momentarily dazed, but she nodded, leaning in quickly to kiss you again. You welcomed it, like you welcomed her every time she was near. You couldn't get enough of her. She was intoxicating. Fucking sunshine, fresh air and amazing. That's what she was, and you were hooked.

Thankfully, you didn't have to wait more than twenty four hours before she was on your doorstep, waiting to come in. Your parents were out, like usual on Fridays, and you welcomed her in. There was something about her which was different, but you couldn't place it. Your eyes scanned her body meticulously and came up short each time.

She wasn't the same girl who walked into your bedroom last Friday night, and you doubted she'd ever be that girl again.

Barely having time to shut your door behind the two of you, Quinn had you pinned against it, her hands rough and roaming over your body. She was wasting no time, going exactly what she came there for, and you were caught up in the lust of it all to question this change.

She was never that bold, taking the lead, dropping to her knees so soon, taking you against the damn door like this was an everyday occurrence. Fuck. No, she was different. She was trying too hard. Whatever was going on with her, she was using you to distract her, and you wanted to argue about being used, but she was using you in the best possible way so you kept your mouth shut.

Letting her control you, pushing you up against every surface and tearing at your clothes, was not what you were expecting of the night. You couldn't complain. How could you even think of complaining? She was wanton with lust, taking you exactly the way she wanted you, making you cry out in ecstasy.

It felt wrong, though. Deep down in your chest you knew it was wrong. She was trying to expunge last week's memories from her mind, and you knew it wasn't going to work. You had tried to forget already. You had changed the sheets, washed her off your skin, drunk yourself into abyss, and still those words haunted you.

"Quinn," you groaned, pushing yourself up onto your forearms as she hovered over you. She looked wild, abandoned and lost. Those warm hazel eyes were gone, and her mask was still in place, revealing the cold, dead eyes you'd seen for years. "Quinn, wait. What are we doing?" you mumbled, almost incoherent from her hand that was travelling up your thigh.

"I'm trying to fuck you and you're asking stupid questions," she replied, cold and clipped.

"This isn't what you want," you cried, bucking your hips wantonly.

"No, but it's what you want." Her eyes were wicked as she dropped her head and you fell back onto the floor, your fingers digging into her scalp.

She was teaching you a lesson, such a fucking cruel lesson.

"I'm sorry," you choked, fighting back the surging emotions beneath your skin. "I'm so fucking sorry."

You needed her to know. The warmth in your chest needed her to know you never meant to hurt her last week. You were scared. You didn't mean to be so harsh, so rough, so careless with your words. You needed her to know.

"Please," you whined, pulling her back up to you. She looked angry, fierce, and you wanted to cry in her arms at the mess you'd created. "Please, Quinn," you pleaded, begging her to stop this, to give you back the girl you had last week.

"What do you want?" she asked, her mask still firmly in place as she leant further over you. Her forehead rested on yours, her lips ghosting across your own as she spoke, and you knew this was as intimate as she was going to get with you tonight.

"You," you confessed, your thumbs stroking at her cheeks, willing her to understand.

She was standing in the room, surrounded by your deepest and darkest emotions, having taken up residence in your head and heart. She had to understand. She had to see what you were after. She just had to.

"Then fuck me," she growled, biting at your bottom lip harshly. "My feelings are at the door, this is just sex, so fuck me."

You whimpered at her words, but not in lust. God no, she was breaking you into a million pieces. She was the fucking landmine.

You didn't want her feelings to be left at the door because you couldn't leave yours there. Yours were seeded deep in your chest, willing you to kiss her as if you had all the time in the world, and she was biting your lip like this had an expiration date on it.

Christ, maybe it did. Maybe that date was last Friday night. Maybe that was all you were going to get with her.

Stupidly, stupidly you had thought a small part of her might have meant those words last week. You hated yourself for thinking about it, but you couldn't help it. You wanted it to be true. You wanted her to love you. You wanted her, and she just wanted sex. You were breaking apart, lost in her arms as you did as she asked.

You would never have her the way you wanted, it was time you accepted that.

Of course she hadn't meant what she said last week. She would never mean it. Your heart, that fucking warmth, thought you had been wrong. It thought she did, and it had thrown you into this situation, begging her to love you, when she never would.

Locking it up, shutting it down, you put out the warmth in your chest with each bite on her neck, each scratch on her back, and each bruise on her hip. She wanted sex, you'd give her sex. That was it. You couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep giving her an inch and letting her take the mile.

You needed to take your own advice. Leave your feelings at the door, it was just sex. And for a while, as you let lust take over, you could pretend that mantra was true. Only after, when you were both sated and lying in bed did you realise it would never be that easy.

She had smiled that little smirk she gets when she's truly satisfied, and turned to you, her eyes shining bright. She was breath taking, truly a goddess, and the warmth in your chest exploded through to every nerve ending in your body and before you knew it, you wanted to kiss her into the mattress, to worship the skin you'd just grabbed, scratched, bitten and abused.

You wanted to love her.

Quinn chose that moment to slip from your bed, grab her clothes, and quickly depart, leaving your bed cold and your heart colder.

You wanted to call her back, to stop her from leaving, but for tonight, you'd be a coward. You'd swallow your words and pretend that she wasn't walking away with a piece of you. You couldn't tell her. She was too good for you. You'd ruin her. You needed to let her go.

Satan was never meant to be with an angel.

*0*0*


	7. Chapter 7: Giving Thanks and Hugs

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Giving Thanks and Hugs

*0*0*

After Monday's developments with Quinn, you had such high hopes for Tuesday. Maybe she would initiate a smile. Maybe she would wish you good morning when you passed her in the hallway. Maybe she would actually talk to you. You had all these ideas and possibilities running through your head, causing you to be giddy with excitement and nerves. It had been built up to be such a huge day, you couldn't even put your keys in your ignition, your hand was shaking that much.

You shouldn't have been excited, though, because Tuesday was a complete dud. In fact, the rest of the week was pretty much a dud. You had gotten your hopes up for nothing. Quinn didn't even glance your way on Tuesday, and positively ignored you on Wednesday. Thursday was met with her hazel eyes seeking yours out in the hallway, but she looked away just as quickly. When Friday finally graced you with its presence, you'd given up and accepted your fate.

You were an idiot. You were a complete and utter idiot.

There you had done it again, building yourself up, only to be rejected _again_. It had happened before, and seemed to be a common occurrence with Quinn. You should have known better. Brittany should have taught you to not get your hopes up for anything. So really, you knew better than to get excited and think about all the ways you could interact with Quinn.

The ball was in her court. It would always be in her court, and until she wanted to talk to you, you were going to be in the outfield waiting. There was nothing you could do. You knew that. Again and again you reminded yourself of that fact, so you shouldn't have been so pleased with yourself on Monday afternoon.

Everything was a lost cause until she decided otherwise.

The only thing that gave you hope was Rachel and her commitment to her plan. She had seen Quinn's avoidance of you, and reaffirmed that her plan was working. How it possibly could be working was beyond you, but whatever. You weren't going to start doubting Rachel's psychic abilities when she believed your craziness. No way.

Trying to cheer you up, because you were being a miserable bastard, Rachel took it upon herself to try and repair your old friendships for you. It was sweet of her, but risky at best. You didn't want any more people knowing about your limited daily word problem, as it definitely made you sound crazy, but of course, Rachel had thought of that.

"I've invited Brittany to have lunch with us," she declared, causing you to miss your mouth and ram your sandwich into your chin. Growling under your breath, you wiped away the mess and turned to look at her nonchalant face.

"You what?"

**Six.**

"I've invited Brittany to have lunch with us. She should be arriving here soon." She was acting like the two of you were talking about the weather, not about inviting someone else into your little bubble. Your bubble was safe and secure and clear of all the craziness. Or rather, it was jam-packed with craziness and free from folk who would lock you in a padded cell. Why the hell was Rachel trying to burst your bubble?

"Why?" you croaked, looking at her like she was about to cause you bodily harm.

**Seven.**

"Because it's Brittany, and she misses you. You two were best friends-" she began.

"Among other things," you added, shaking your head. You really couldn't get past the idea of it being more than the two of you.

**Ten.**

"-and then all of a sudden the two of you weren't talking. She took it badly, and I know she misses you, and you do miss her. So, I thought it best to try and get you two talking again. Okay, don't look at me like that, I know you can't exactly talk, but Brittany understands that. She was the only one who understood why you couldn't sing or talk in Glee, and I think she's secretly psychic like myself. If not, she has some sort of gift."

Okay, so Rachel had a point. Brittany was the only one who seemed to understand that you were without your words, and she wasn't bothered by it in the least. Maybe she didn't truly understand what was going on exactly, but knowing Brittany, you knew she wouldn't need to. She wouldn't ask questions, she wouldn't pry, and she wouldn't be phased in the least if you did tell her. She actually was the best candidate to invite into the bubble.

"Anyway, she's joining us," Rachel continued. "She won't be with us every lunch, given Cheerios practice and all the extracurricular activities she's in, which I was completely unaware of, but she should join us at least twice a week. If that is okay with you, that is."

Having thought it over, you knew it wouldn't be a problem to have Brittany join them. It would actually be quite nice. You had missed the blonde, like Rachel had said. She was your closest friend until things went south. Then it was Quinn, and that wasn't even worth thinking about. Though, if you could be friends with Brittany again, maybe you could be friends with Quinn in due time, if nothing else worked.

"Of course," you confirmed, pleased with Rachel's initiative. She really was turning out to be the best thing that had happened to you since the whole Fifty Words began. Without her, God only knows what you would be like, or where you would be with Quinn.

**Twelve.**

"Oh, before I forget!" Rachel cried, bending down to root about in her bag. "I bought you these," she sang, smiling brightly as she handed you a neat little pile of laminated cards. You frowned, because on the back of each card was some kind of farm animal, and these were most definitely used for a small child.

"Thanks?" you muttered, inspecting them. Turning over the garishly coloured card, you saw the number one glaring back at you, and your frown deepened.

**Thirteen.**

"They're to help keep track of your words," Rachel explained, seeing your confusion. "I know you can keep track of your words easy; your voiceover does that for you, but I have no way of knowing how many you have left. It is such a waste of paper making you write it out all the time, so I bought these cards to help."

Mildly impressed with her thinking, you grabbed a piece of paper from your bag and scribbled her a question. You wanted to save your words for Brittany, at least giving you a chance to talk to her properly. If Brittany did know of your plight, like Rachel said, then she would expect you to be quiet, but you could make some effort.

Going back to the cards, you inspected them closely. Pigs, cows, sheep, chickens, ducks, dogs, and cats, all adorned the back of them. Some were red and blue, others green and yellow, and orange and purple, and each and every animal had a cheery smile on its face.

A small, tiny, miniscule, part of you wanted to gag at the joyful cards before you, but then you glanced over to the girl next to you, who had gone to all that trouble to help you, and a small smile graced your lips. The cards were like Rachel, loud, garish at times, straight to the point, and cheerful. Gripping them a little tighter, you knew because of her you were going to treasure these stupid little things so much more.

"Where an earth did you get these?" Rachel asked, reading aloud your note and breaking your train of thought. Grinning, she went into a deep explanation of her weekend in Columbus with her fathers and how they were shopping for a baby cousin of hers. It was kind of her, to think of you while out with her family, and you found yourself giving her one of your genuine smiles, mask dropped to the floor.

"What? What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" she questioned, stopping abruptly. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you…you just…" You stopped, unable to finish your sentence and softly sighed.

**Seventeen.**

She'd taken you by surprise. She was constantly surprising you. You didn't know what to do about that, what to think about her, and just continued to grin at her like an idiot. She bit her bottom lip, fighting a losing battle against the smile breaking free, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Hey, guys!" Brittany called, bouncing into the auditorium excitedly, cutting Rachel off completely. The smiles fell off both your faces and the two of you went back to your lunches while Brittany bounded up the row towards you.

"Hey Britt-Britt," you replied, looking up at her as she took a seat.

**Nineteen.**

If it was even possibly, her smile widened and she gave you one of her happiest looks, making your chest ache. You had missed her happiness, so fucking much. Quinn may have smelt like sunshine, but Brittany was the goddamn sun, emitting rays of happiness and warmth.

"Hi Brittany," Rachel greeted; once again back to her chirper self.

Sitting down, Brittany pulled out a box of cookies and started tucking in. You smiled to yourself, not surprised in the least by her lunch choice. She always used to tell you that she needed something a little sweet to push her through the day, and it was good to know that hadn't changed.

Rachel, unfamiliar with Brittany's dietary choices, struck up conversation about her cookies, and was then treated to a fifteen minute discussion about how sugar was magical and kept people smiling. Rachel, god bless her, listened with rapture and took every word Brittany said like it was gospel. It wasn't until Brittany mentioned that with twenty five minutes left of lunch, she needed to eat at least four more cookies in order to reach her peak levels of concentration for her afternoon classes that Rachel interrupted her.

"Oh gosh, is that the time? I have to go," she said, shoving her rubbish into her bag. "I promised Mr. Schue that if I was going to harass him with Regional song choices and dance choreography then I needed to do it outside classroom hours. Apparently, it is not acceptable to switch his PowerPoint presentation with my own and take over his Spanish class. I honestly thought it was the best use of time given that nobody learns anything anyway. Which also reminds me, Santana, is there any chance you could help me with Spanish? I don't mean to-"

"Yeah, of course," you interrupted before she went into cheating and stereotypes.

**Twenty two. **

"Great! Well, like I said, I must dash. See you two later!" With that, Rachel practically sprinted out the auditorium, leaving the two of you alone.

You wanted to speak, to let Brittany know that you were interested in getting your friendship back, but she beat you to it. Briefly, you wondered if Rachel was right, maybe Brittany did have some kind of gift.

"I'm really happy that we could do this again. Lunch isn't the same when you're not there. Quinn, she's always sad now, and I know she misses you like I do. You need to patch things up with her. We may have not worked out, but you and Quinn could work out, if you try hard enough." You knew she wasn't reprimanding you, but it felt like that.

"I'll try, B. I'll try."

**Twenty seven.**

"Good, because I want to have a sleepover soon and I can't have you and Quinn fighting while you're there. That tension does not promote a healthy living environment." Reaching over, she squeezed your hand and smiled. "You two don't make sense to me, but as long as you make sense to each other, that's all that matters. I want you to be happy."

"Thanks, B," you whispered, squeezing her hand back. Taking a deep breath, you tried to take hold of your emotions, and rapidly blinked away the tears threatening to spill over. Brittany's support meant a lot to you, more than you realised it seemed.

**Twenty nine.**

Noticing your change in emotions, Brittany changed the subject and began updating you on all Lord Tubbington's crazy adventures back from when the two of you were not talking. He was back in rehab, having been found with ecstasy tablets stashed in the old kitty litter tray, apparently. Brittany was concerned, but thought given the right program he might get back on the right tracks.

The whole conversation brought a smile to your lips, and a nostalgic feeling washed over you. You could still remember the first time you met Lord Tubbington, a kitten then, and the first time Brittany told you he was on drugs. It had all sounded crazy to you, but then again, back then you hadn't suffered from a word limit each day, nor were you best friends with a possible psychic. Perhaps what Brittany was saying was true. Maybe Lord Tubbington really was on drugs, and had been this whole time.

"So he gets out of rehab next Friday. I've already swept the house for any drugs he may have left behind, but I'm worried about him falling in with his old crowd again. The black and white cat, who lives three doors down, I call him Scarface. He's the ring leader. If Lord Tubbington falls back in line with him, then rehab will have been for nothing. Do you think you could talk to him? Maybe get him to see the error of his ways?" She was looking at you with so much hope that you did the only thing you could; you nodded and agreed to talk to Lord Tubbington next Friday.

"Aww thank you, San! I know Lord T looks up to you. Your words mean a lot to him," Brittany exclaimed. "And hey, maybe we could have that sleepover then, too! It could be a welcome home party for him!" You didn't know what to say to that, but nodded anyway. "I'll invite Rachel, and Tina, and the other Glee girls, and we can have a huge slumber party for him," she continued, rambling on.

All you could think about was the chance of being around Quinn for that long. Brittany's sleepovers were notorious for lasting the whole weekend. Quinn and you, at Brittany's, together for the whole weekend. Silently you thanked the gods for making Brittany want to invite the others, especially Rachel. You'd need her. For that weekend, you'd need her constant support.

Tuning back in, you noticed Brittany checking her watch and frowning. "We should probably go, classes start soon, and Coach said that if I had any plans of leaving this Podunk town, I should go to them," she announced, chewing on her bottom lip.

Nodding, you grabbed your things together and began to get up. Taking the empty cookie box in hand, Brittany rose to her feet, as well, and stretched. The two of you meandered out of the row leisurely and headed up towards the auditorium doors.

Brittany was a few steps behind you when you felt a tug on your sleeve, causing you to stop. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed her pensive look and turned fully. She was anxious, worrying about whatever it was she was going to say.

"I was hoping you would maybe come over tonight, and watch a movie like old times," she mumbled. "We always used to watch movies on Friday nights, and I've missed it. So do you…I mean, would you like to come over later?" Her eyes sought you out, and you saw the fear ridden in them. She was actually scared that you would reject her, which was completely ridiculous.

"I'd love to," you replied, nodding happily. Of course you weren't going to turn her offer down. It was Brittany for goodness sake; it just wasn't possible to turn her down.

**Thirty two.**

Hugging you tightly, Brittany squealed in your ear and gave you another one of her ecstatic smiles. Jumping on the spot, she pulled back from the hug and bid you a quick goodbye before darting off to class. You were left grinning, body abuzz with anticipation. You honestly couldn't wait to head over to hers later. It would just be like old times, and that's exactly what you needed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had you looking towards the doors. Your eyes fell straight onto Rachel, who was smiling back at you. She must have snuck back in as Brittany was leaving.

"That went well, then?" she asked, heading towards you. Her eyes were shining bright with glee at everything that had transpired. She had every right to look like that, she had done so fucking much for you. She had made all of this possible.

"You're a genius," you declared, closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around her. You practically tackled the girl into a hug, catching her off guard. Her body was rigid and tense at first, but gradually she began to relax, her arms coming round to hug you back.

**Thirty five.**

"Thank you," you whispered, holding her tighter. You couldn't even begin to express your thanks for everything she had done for you.

**Thirty seven.**

"You're welcome," she whispered back, letting you hold her as long as you liked.

The bell ringing told you that you were going to be late to class, but neither of you moved. With one final squeeze, you untangled yourself from her and took a step back. She was watching you carefully, taking in how much distance you were putting between the two of you, and then took a step back herself.

"Shall we go?" she asked, her gaze having softened.

Nodding, you hiked your bag over your shoulder and the two of you left the auditorium together. Rachel gave you a quick wave goodbye and then went off to her first class, leaving you to go to your locker and fetch your books.

Despite knowing you were going to be late, you strolled through the near empty corridors like you had all the time in the world. A weight had just been lifted off your shoulders, making you feel lighter and more relaxed. Finally, _finally_, things were really beginning to look up.

You had friends.

You had friends who understood and who cared about you.

That, that thought alone, was the best you'd had all week.

Yes, Monday was great, and Quinn smiling at you was amazing, but you couldn't count on her. Rachel was your rock, you could always count on her now, and Brittany, she was taking you back to the good old days without all the venom and the lies that used to be present. They were with you through this, not looking at you like you were crazy, and believing you despite it testing the realms of possibility.

Glancing round the now deserted corridor, you looked upwards towards the ceiling and closed your eyes. In your mind, you imagined the creepy voiceover watching and waiting for you to say something just so it could announce what number you were on. If that was the case, it was watching and listening to you now.

"Thank you," you whispered softly, hoping it really was listening and watching, and hoping it knew exactly what you were thanking it for.

Without Fifty Words, you would never have made friends with Rachel, and you would never have repaired your relationship with Brittany. The old Santana would have been too proud to talk to Brittany, to acknowledge her own faults and apologise for hurting her. She never would have admitted she missed Brittany, and she never would have tried to fix it. She would have seen Artie and given up.

The old Santana also would never in a million years have been nice to Rachel. She wouldn't have dreamed of apologising, and she wouldn't have confided anything in the girl. No, instead, she would have ridiculed and tortured her until graduation, ensuring she left McKinley miserable.

It was Quinn that pushed you to apologise to both of them, and it was Fifty Words that had you even listening to her demands. You wanted Quinn to forgive you, so you asked for forgiveness from those you had hurt, and the only reason you wanted Quinn to forgive you was because you had hurt her with Fifty Words.

Fifty Words had screwed you with your pants on, but it also seemed to be fixing everything, and turning you into a much better person. It was good and bad at the same time, but the good far outweighed the bad. It had put you through hell, but was finally letting you into heaven.

It was your penance, and rather than hate the curse you'd been struck with, you were thankful for the gift you'd been given.

Without Fifty Words, you would be alone, angry, miserable, and on a one-way path of self-destruction. How could you not thank those that were putting you through this?

Closing your locker door, you waited for the familiar sound of the voiceover telling you that you only had thirty nine words left. With each step closer to your class, your frown grew, and you were left completely confused.

"Sorry I'm late," you announced, barging into the classroom. You were testing a theory, and you needed to see if it was going to work.

Ignoring the teacher's scowling glare as you took you seat, you pulled out your notes and attempted to catch up, but really weren't paying attention. You were waiting. You were waiting for it to kick in, to tell you how many words you had used. It should be telling you that you had used forty three words; forty three.

**Forty.**

Dropping your pen, you sunk back into your chair and took a deep breath. Your voice over had just given you two words for free. It had just given you free words. It hadn't count those words. What the hell did that mean? Was that an accident? Was that on purpose?

The teacher barking at you to pay attention had you picking up your pen again, but for the life of you, you couldn't concentrate.

Fifty Words was actually going to be Fifty Two Words today.

Why?

Were you finally learning your lesson?

*0*0*

That night, before you went to Brittany's, you sent Rachel a text, telling her what had happened earlier on. She was ecstatic, her giddiness infectious through the screen, convinced that this was the greatest thing since sliced bread. You weren't sure it was that great, but it certainly was a step in the right direction.

With that thought in mind, you headed over to Brittany's that night with a bright smile adorning your face, and your eyes alight with excitement. In typical Brittany fashion, she matched your excitement without even needing to know why, and quickly kicked off the evening with some classic Disney movies.

It really was just like old times.

Or rather, it would have been if she hadn't stopped watching the movie halfway through and asked the one question you didn't think she'd ask.

"How many words do you have left today?" she questioned, blue eyes trained on you.

Spluttering, you didn't know what to say or do. You certainly hadn't told Brittany about Fifty Words but yet she seemed to just _know_. Rachel was right, Brittany had some kind of gift, for sure. Reaching for your bag, you pulled out the cards Rachel had bought you and help up the number forty for her to read.

"What are they? They're awesome!" she exclaimed, not interested in the least with what number was on the front. You were pretty sure she had seen the grinning pig on the card below and became distracted.

"Gift from Rachel," you replied, watching as she took the number forty one card and grinned back at the pig.

**Forty three.**

"Rachel always gives the best gifts," she added, taking the rest of the pack from your hand to look at the other animals. "Last year, she bought me an all-day pass to the petting zoo. It was like heaven. My own personal heaven. Best day ever."

You frowned, completely unaware of the day Brittany was talking about. Granted, you weren't exactly in her life at that point, as it was after things had blown up between the two of you, but still. Surely you would have known if Rachel Berry had bought her a gift.

"When was that?" you asked, curious.

**Forty six.**

"Christmas, silly. You know, the holiday where we give out gifts? When else would it be?" Brittany's eyes lit up like aforementioned Christmas trees as she spotted the duck cards and started separating them out from the others.

Turning back to the movie, you waited for Brittany to grow bored of the cards and finish her original train of thought. It would happen eventually, you were sure of it. Thankfully, it didn't take that long, and by the time you were on the second movie, your cards abandoned on the coffee table, Brittany nudged your arm to get your attention again.

"Fifty words really isn't a lot of words, and I don't want you to waste them on me, so we should make up some sort of system where we can talk without actually talking. You need to use your words on Quinn. I know she'd love to hear them."

Again, she seemed to know everything, even the exact number of words you were limited to. A part of you wanted to ask how she knew, but thought it best not to. She would probably give you an answer you wouldn't understand.

Grabbing your phone from your bag, you sent her a text and she was quick to catch on, pulling her own from her pocket.

_I think we can do that! _

It only took a few seconds for your phone to vibrate in reply.

_Sheer genius, San! Sheer genius! _

Even though Brittany could talk, she seemed to like the idea of texting you her reply, and you were happy to go along with it. She was helping you, allowing you to save your words, which really meant a lot to you. Now you knew that you wouldn't hurt her feelings if you didn't talk to her, and could text her even when she was sitting next to you and it not be construed as rude.

Eighty seven texts and two movies later, you were getting ready to head home. Brittany was already sleepy, and you knew you had to get home sooner rather than later. You didn't want to drive while tired. No way were you going to make all this progress and then throw it away by dying behind the damn wheel because you fell asleep.

"Sweet dreams for when you go, San," Brittany mumbled into your shoulder, hugging you at the door.

"Sweet dreams, Britt," you yawned, rubbing circles in her back as she practically fell asleep in your arms. Chuckling under your breath, you pulled away and made sure she was stable on her feet before stepping back, out of reach.

**Forty nine. **

"Night." Waving your goodbye, you stepped off the porch and went towards your car.

**Fifty. **

As you walked, you hunted out your keys and got ready to unlock your doors when you Brittany stopped you.

"Wait!" she called, taking you by surprise. Without knowing what was going on, you watched as she was walked across her front lawn towards you. Stopping about a foot in front of you, Brittany tucked her hair behind her ear and licked her lips.

"You used your last words on me," she whispered, looking overwhelmed at the thought. Nodding nervously, you stood in confusion. You hadn't meant to upset her. If she wanted you to use her system that badly, you would, but you thought she would like getting your last words.

Apparently she did, or so you concluded when she launched herself at you again. "I loved the old San, but I love the new Santana so much more. Thank you," she added, continuing to whisper. "Night."

Wiping away a stray tear that had escaped, you waved her goodbye again and finally unlocked your doors. As you pulled out her driveway, you watched her retreating form head in the house, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

Things couldn't have gone better if you tried.

It was almost perfect, if not for one part. One part you weren't going to dwell on right then. Instead, you were letting the acceptance wash over you and lull you into a calm you had never had the honour of feeling before. She was back, Brittany was back in your life, and this time you weren't going to lose her.

No matter what happened, no matter how things progressed, you were not going to lose Rachel or Brittany. They were everything to you, now. They were the people who accepted you without a second thought, and they were the one standing by your side when you needed them most.

Even if you had to give up all your words to keep them in your life, you would. They were your friends, and like they looked out for you, you were going to look out for them; no matter what.

*0*0*


	8. Chapter 8: Giving Up, Falling Down

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Giving Up, Falling Down

*0*0*

On Sunday night, you made the decision you had been dreading since things started to become difficult between Quinn and you. Friday night had left your heart bruised and beaten, and hers so frozen even the depths of hell wouldn't be able to melt it. So really, you had no choice. The answer was obvious.

You were giving up.

Quinn was never going to be the girl on your arm. She was never going to walk you to class. She was never going to kiss you in the hallways. She was never going to go out on dates with you. She was never going to publically declare your relationship. She was never going to love you.

With that and so much more weighing you down, you agreed that it best you stuck to the rule you had set for her. Leave your emotions at the door. That's what you needed to do, and that's what you were going to have to start doing. The second Quinn and you were alone, you were going to have to push out all your feelings, and lock them out of the room, your head, your heart. You couldn't, you just couldn't afford to lose another best friend like you'd lost Brittany.

Although you had tried to do just that on Friday night, you were going to have to try harder. On Friday night, you'd been looking for the girl who used to come into your bedroom, full of laughs and excitement, not the cold and controlled girl who'd arrived instead. You were hoping she'd meant those three words she'd confessed when her guard was down, but Friday night's events told you that was not possible, and never would be.

Therefore, Sunday night was your giving up night, and you formulated a plan for the rest of the week. Anytime Quinn and you were alone, it would simply be about the lust. If one of you wasn't getting an orgasm, it wasn't worth your time. Sex, it had to just be about sex. You could do that. You could most definitely do that. Hell, you did it with Brittany for years. Surely it would be easy to do it with Quinn, too.

So, when Monday morning came, you were ready and prepared. Your mask was in place, perfectly presented for the world to see, and you had locked away any lingering doubts. This was the right thing to do, you were certain of it. Nothing was telling you otherwise. This was definitely the right move.

Heading down the stairs to grab something to eat before heading to school, you heard your mother puttering about in the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, you watched her fuss over the contents in the various pots and pans she had on the stove, then made you entrance.

"Morning," you greeted, smiling as you took a seat at the island in the middle of the floor. Your mother was still oblivious to you, though, and you frowned. She was singing under her breath, flipping the contents of one pan, and clearly hadn't heard you over the sizzling it was creating. Shrugging, you went to say it again and then heard it.

**One. **

What the fuck was that?

Your frown deepened as you glanced round the kitchen to look for the source of that voice. You found nothing. The TV wasn't on. The radio wasn't on. Your father didn't look to be in the house. You couldn't hear anything. Well, you couldn't hear anything beside that damn pan sizzling and spitting away. Still, the voice had been so clear; too clear. It had to be coming from somewhere close.

"Did you hear that?" you asked, finally catching your mother's attention. She smiled warmly at you and then frowned, shaking her head.

"Hear what?" she asked politely, turning back to the food. The pan that was louder than a fucking spaceship taking off was finally removed from the stove, and you watched as she started to put the food onto plates.

Opening your mouth to explain what you'd heard, you suddenly heard it again, clear as day.

**Five. **

Okay, seriously, what the fuck was going on?

"That!" you cried, pointing upwards. It sounded like it was coming from a speaker system, almost like one of those announcements at the airport or train station.

**Six. **

"There it was again! Can you not hear it?" Your mother gave you a worrying look and shook her head, turning down the gas before coming round the counter, towards you.

**Fifteen. **

"Are you feeling okay, sweetheart? Maybe you should go lie down." Her anxious gaze didn't extinguish as she placed her hand on your forehead.

"No, I feel fine. I just..." you let your sentence hang, waiting. You were not disappointed.

**Twenty one. **

"That! Can you not hear that?" Maribel Lopez was looking at you with deeper concern and you shook your head, feeling like you were crazy; you weren't. You were not fucking crazy. You could hear someone saying numbers. You were not imagining it.

**Twenty seven. **

And what the fuck was that about? Numbers?

"I'm going to go," you said, biting at your bottom lip. This wasn't making any sense, and the more you thought about it, the worse your headache became.

**Thirty one. **

"Santana, are you sure you're okay? Do you really think school is a good idea today? You could stay home, I wouldn't mind." Your mother's frown left you unsettled as you grabbed an apple from the middle of the counter, completely destroying the neatly organised fruit bowl.

"No, it's fine. I have Cheerios practice. Can't miss it." Maribel nodded and watched you carefully as you headed out the kitchen and towards the front door. You tried not to let her reaction get to you, but it was difficult. She honestly couldn't hear it, and that thought was seriously worrying.

**Forty one. **

Glancing over your shoulder, to see if she'd heard, just one last time, you realised she hadn't. She was still watching you like something was wrong. There was. You were hearing shit, shit she couldn't hear. Could anyone else hear it? Was this like some prank someone was playing on you? Whoever it was would be dead by the time you were done with them. How dare they make Santana Lopez doubt her sanity.

Hoping to find more answers at school, you quickly set off. When you arrived, however, you were met with other mindless idiots trying to park their poor excuses of a car. Some bitch had taken your usual spot, and you were going to key it later so she knew not to park there again, but until then, you had to find somewhere else to park. That meant fighting among the Neanderthals for a good space.

"Move it, jerkoff!" you screamed, flipping off some twat in a Prius. They were blocking a space up ahead that some dickhead on the hockey team was trying to beat you to. You were seconds away from going Auntie Snix on their asses when the Prius finally got out the way.

Lucky for that bitch, you beat the hockey player and your baby was safely parked in what you would call a decent spot. You weren't near trees, so no bird crap; you weren't too close to the playing fields, so no accidental smashed windows or scratched paint work when some knucklehead lobbed a ball too far; and you weren't near any of the teacher's crappy vehicles, so that porno mag on your backseat wouldn't get reported if they walked by.

All of this ended up putting a smile on your face, but it was quickly wiped off with the addition of two words:

**Forty four.**

You looked round frantically, trying to see if anyone else had heard, but no one seemed as bothered as you. Everyone was making their way towards their friends and the main building. No one looked to have heard what you did. Were you really the only one?

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, you spotted some chick's eyes on you and spat out "freak!" before walking away. She looked hurt by your venom but it was enough to make you feel better about yourself, for the moment. You weren't going crazy. You weren't.

**Forty five.**

Again, you glanced around, but still, no one was bothered. They hadn't heard it. Only you had. Maybe it was time to rethink that previous statement. Maybe you were going crazy.

There was only one person who could help clear this up. You needed Quinn. She wouldn't judge you for this. Well, that's bullshit, she would judge you, but she wouldn't tell anyone about it. She would probably think you were losing your shit, but maybe you were.

With newfound determination, you pushed your way towards the school, in a rush to find the blonde. She could help you. She would react to it if she heard, and she would be able to shine some kind of light on this messed up situation. You weren't going crazy. No.

Like always, the hallways were packed, and without your Cheerio armour on, you would be getting shoved into lockers like the rest of your peers.

"Out my way, Man-hands." Berry looked at you over her shoulder with disdain but squeezed into her locker a little further, letting you past. You were so close to calling out a thanks, but then remembered you didn't do that shit, and especially not with Berry. God only knows what would happen if you encouraged her.

**Forty Nine.**

Speeding through the crowds, you made it to Quinn's locker. The blonde had her head buried in it, oblivious to your arrival, as she hunted for her books. A small part of you wanted to give her a fright, but another part was actually glad to see this version of Q, the laidback, 'haven't-quite-put-my-HBIC mask-on-yet' version. For that reason, you stood patiently and waited for her to notice you.

It didn't take long, because well, who wouldn't notice your hot ass leaning next to them?

Quinn gave you a genuinely friendly smile and for once, her mask didn't immediately fly into place. You couldn't work out why, though, given how things had been with the two of you on Friday night. She had been so cold and collected, why was she giving you this unmasked and free moment?

For fuck's sake, you were giving up on her, you couldn't have that gorgeous smile directed at you or those warm hazel eyes burning into yours. You just couldn't. What the fuck was she doing to you? And why of all days did she pick today to leave her mask off? As if you didn't have enough problems already. No, you were just going skitzo. Fantastic timing, Q.

"Hi," you mumbled, fighting a losing battle against the pathetically happy smile you were trying not to return. You didn't want her to know how much she affected you, in the simplest ways, just in case she used it against you, but for some reason you couldn't stop yourself. How could anyone keep their resolve around this girl?

**Fifty. **

"Hi," she replied, chewing at her bottom lip, holding back her own smile. From the look in her hazel eyes, the unmarred brow, and the relaxed expression, you deduced that she hadn't just heard the creepy voiceover that was numbering things. Well, that fucking sucked.

Closing her locker, Quinn dropped her shoulder against it and shuffled a bit closer to you. You glanced round the hallway briefly and were pleased to see everyone was minding their own business. You'd hate to have to go all Lima Heights on someone's ass before first period.

"So…I was thinking," Quinn began, reaching out and fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist. "Do you maybe want to come over tonight?"

Yes. Yes you did. Hell yes. Fuck yes. Of course you did. Why was she even asking? Was it not obvious? You were pretty sure your nipples had answered her question for you.

Opening your mouth, you went to reply and nothing came out. Frowning, you tried again, but you couldn't even mouth the word. What the fuck was going on? Swallowing, you gave it another shot, and still failed. Nothing. You couldn't speak. You couldn't even form the words with your mouth.

"San?" Quinn asked, her hand having dropped from your wrist, coming round to encase her body. Her eyes were filled with fear, rather than the confidence she was exerting a few moments ago.

Nodding, you tried to make up for the fact that you couldn't speak. You didn't want to freak her out with your inability to communicate, just in case she took it as a sign of rejection. You shot her a reassuring smile and nodded again, relieved when she smiled back. Christ, you had almost messed up.

"Okay then, I'll see you at mine after Cheerio practice." Giving you flirty smile, Quinn took a step back and headed off to first class.

You stared after her like some dopey idiot, the warmth in your chest having broken free, and quickly became lost in the promise of what would be taking place later on at hers and the confusion as to why you couldn't speak. Her mask had been off when she had invited you over, did that mean her mask would be off while you were there? Were you finally going to get the shy and bashful girl back?

God, that would be highly ironic, you thought. The second you give up, the second she starts to return to the girl you fell in love with.

It was at this point that you noticed some freshman leering at you. You had just been standing against Quinn's locker, having watched her walk off, and the little pervert had chosen that time to check you out. Squaring your shoulders, you went to bitch at him, shooting him a foul glare, but instead of hurling abusive Spanish at him, you choked on your words.

You literally couldn't speak.

You tried again, much to his amusement now, and still failed. It sounded like a fucking animal being slaughtered when you tried, each word becoming a garbled mess. You couldn't do it. You couldn't speak. Coughing, you tried once more, and still nothing. The boy's eyes were alight with mirth, and you knew you needed to do something to gain back the cred you'd just lost from this incident.

Hearing the bell ring, you knew you were going to be late to class if you didn't move your ass, so instead of verbally tearing down the freshman, you pretended to lunge at him. That mirth died instantly, and he jumped back into the lockers, a resounding thunk reverberating round the hallway. Smirking evilly, you took great satisfaction the fear that crossed his face as he quickly grabbed his things and scurried away like the pathetic little weasel he was. At least you could still strike fear into the minions when you needed to. That was something.

Words or no words, you were still Santana Lopez.

*0*0*

After first period, you were hoping that this morning had just been some fluke incident. Maybe your vocal cords were tired or some shit like that. Maybe you were sick and coming down with a virus. Regardless, you had rested your voice all lesson, and on your way to your next class, you tested it out again.

First, you tried to mouth the words, failing to do so, which was actually freaking you out. All you could think about was if your body was having some kind of stroke and it was delayed or some shit. You weren't a doctor, you didn't know, but apparently, your face in the bathroom mirror hadn't fallen on one side and you looked fine.

Frowning, you tried to say some words, watching as your mouthed moved to form them. You would get so close and then your mouth would just freeze. Majority of the time, the words didn't make a sound in your throat, but on the odd occasion, if you put enough effort into it, you would garble out some massacre.

It was fucking awful.

No matter how long you stood there and tried, nothing happened. It was useless. Swallowing nervously, you fought the fear creeping up your spine, and tried to put your perfect mask back in place before leaving the bathroom. You were scared, you didn't want to admit it, but you were.

Why the fuck couldn't you say anything?

Quickly making your way to your next class, you tried to keep your head down. If you couldn't say anything, then you had to avoid confrontations or situations where you would be required to speak. Until you knew exactly what the hell you were dealing with, it was best to just keep your eyes to yourself and your mouth closed.

All this, however, was easier said than done.

In third period, you were called upon, but you couldn't get a single word to leave your mouth. In the end, you had to shrug like you didn't know the answer, but you did. You knew it, and you couldn't say it. In fact, you still couldn't say anything.

The teacher looked at you like you were an idiot and bitched you out for not answering her when she spoke to you, and your classmates were surprised you took such a tongue-lashing. It was fucking awful.

Your reputation was taking such a fucking hit, and you couldn't do a damn thing about it. Resigned to the fact you weren't able to speak, you stopped trying. A small part of you, a tiny, miniscule, part of you knew this wasn't medical related, but that was one avenue you weren't willing to ignore.

At lunch, you avoided the cafeteria, and instead, you sent a text to your father, asking to come see him at his office. You knew his medical degree would come in handy someday. So grabbing your shit, you went to his clinic on the other side of town and sat patiently in the waiting room.

It only took a few moments before he ushered you into his office, and promptly asked what was wrong. Trying to speak, hoping beyond all hope words would suddenly be heard, you went to explain, and failed. Your father just sat across from you, frowning in confusion.

It was no use, you still couldn't fucking speak, so had to grab a pen and scribble out what was wrong.

_I've lost my voice. I can't speak. _

Taking the note from your hand, you watched as his eyebrows rose in question, and a small smile formed on his lips. Glaring at him, because of course he found this funny, you sunk back into your chair and let him have his enjoyment.

"I'm sorry, mija," Tomás Lopez chuckled, shaking his head. "Normally you're screaming and shouting, so at least allow me this short reprieve before you start up again. Now, take a seat on the bed and I'll have a look at your throat."

Ignoring his boyish grin, you hopped over onto the bed and watched him gather the equipment he'd need. No doubt he was going to call your mother after this and the two of them would have a royal laugh at your expense. Seriously, parents, what the fuck was up with them?

Much to your distaste, your father couldn't see any reason why you couldn't speak, and therefore didn't see the need to give you any antibiotics or treatment. You weren't suffering from a sore throat, a cough, or exhibiting any signs at the back of your mouth to suggest something was untoward. Everything looked perfectly healthy.

"I suggest you rest your voice as much as you can, and hopefully it'll return soon. If you're still struggling to talk by the end of the week, we'll get another doctor to check you over and make a referral. Okay?"

Nodding you slipped off the examination bed and grabbed your notepad to write him another note. It really wasn't his fault he couldn't see anything wrong with you, and he had made an effort, so you bit back the angry growl waiting to slip out and handed him over the bit of paper.

_Thanks for trying._

"No thanks needed. Here, you'll need a note to explain why you're late to class. See you this evening." Your father gave you a reassuring smile and signed one of his doctor's notes for you. Accepting it with a smile, you tucked it in your bag and then rounded the desk to give him a hug.

You felt drained, having all the energy zapped from you. You really had hoped it was some virus or something, because then you could pretend you hadn't heard some creepy voiceover. But no, you weren't that lucky, and now you were back at square one.

Maybe you should have told your father about the voices, but to be honest, that thought was terrifying. No one reacts well when you tell them you can hear voices. It's not a good sign. And the last thing you needed was him giving you a sedative or having you admitted into the psych ward. No, you needed to keep the voices to yourself, or rather the one voice, and try and work this one on your own.

Once you arrived back at school, you trudged your way to your next class, handing over aforementioned note when the teacher demanded a reason why you were late, and promptly sat at the back of the room with your head down. You really could have used a nap; there was just no way you were going to make it through the rest of the day.

Unsurprisingly, by the time the end of the day did actually come round, you were fucking exhausted and needed to go home. Cheerio practice was too much, so you weren't going. You didn't care what Coach Sylvester was going to say about it, she could bitch you out tomorrow, you needed to sleep.

Texting Quinn, because you were bailing on her tonight as well, you hoped she'd understand. You had gone to the doctor's, so maybe that was going to work in your favour. Either way, you hated disappointing the blonde, especially given how relaxed she was that morning, but you had no way to talk to her, and you silence would be deafening.

_To Quinn: Sorry Q, not going to make it to practice tonight. Was at the docs during lunch. Throat is pretty sore, voice is gone. Heading home to sleep it off. Maybe we can reschedule tonight for some time later in the week? Let me know. S. _

Slipping your phone in your bag, you headed to your car and drove home extra carefully. Your eyelids were beginning to droop just as you pulled up in front of your house, and your body was in shut down mode. There really was no reason for you to be this tired, unless you genuinely were sick. This could only be good news. Maybe you had imagined that creepy voiceover, and it hadn't actually happened.

Regardless, the welcoming sight of your bed had you forgetting all those thoughts as you snuggled into the covers. Sleep, that's all you needed. Today was a dream, and tomorrow you would wake up with everything back to normal.

*0*0*

Somehow, you had managed to sleep straight through until morning. That shit just wasn't normal for you. You had to be sick. You just had to be. There really only was one way to find out, though, but you didn't want to chance it just yet. Instead, you went about your morning routine as if nothing was new, and hopped down the stairs with an optimistic spring in your step.

This had to work. It just had to.

"Morning, mija, how's the voice today?" your father called, rooting around in the living room trying to find his keys no doubt.

"Morning," you replied, a little anxiously. There was no reason to be anxious, however, as you didn't feel any discomfort or pain when you spoke, and your voice sounded strong and healthy. The word had just rolled off your tongue without an issue. "And voice seems pretty good," you added, a smile taking over your lips.

"Great! I told you it would come back!" Grinning happily, he found his keys buried under the papers on the coffee table and began gathering the rest of his things.

Smiling, you headed into the kitchen to grab a quick drink before heading off. You had your voice back. You could speak again. That was fucking fantastic news. Yesterday must have been some freak incident, never to be repeated.

Taking the glass out the cupboard, you were so damn close to placing it on the counter when you heard it, loud and fucking clear.

**Six.**

The glass slipped out your hand and clattered along the worktop, thankfully not breaking, as you gripped onto the closest surface possible like your life depended on it. Yesterday hadn't been a fluke. The voice was back, and the voice was counting.

It was counting your fucking words. It had to be. That was the only explanation. You had only said two things this morning, a small amount of words, and Christ, you were pretty sure you had used six words in total. That had to be it. That had to be what the numbers were about.

"Everything okay in there?" your father asked, concern in his voice. You could still hear him rustling about looking for his things, so sighed in relief. If he'd wandered in to investigate, he would have seen the horrified expression on your face and then you would have had to lie your way out of whatever mess this was.

Testing out your new theory, though, you nodded and cleared your throat, getting ready to take the plunge.

"Yeah, everything's fine." Three, that was three words. If your theory was correct then the voiceover would count to-

**Nine.**

Holy fucking shit. You were right. You were actually right. It was counting your words. What the fuck was up with that? What did that mean? Why the hell was it counting your words? What was going on?

Abuzz with questions, you abandoned your empty glass and headed back upstairs. You were going to be late for school, but right then you really didn't give a shit.

Opening your laptop, you typed in as many variations as you could on what was happening to you, and your results were shit at best. China and their limitations on speech came up. Freedom of speech in schools appeared. Psychological speech disorders and stuttering came up, but you didn't fit into any of those categories. There was nothing. There was absolutely nothing to explain the creepy voiceover or counting words. Using the whole 'voices in my head' brought up loads of mental health webpages, and honestly, all that started to freak you out.

You closed the web browser as fast as possible, and sunk back on your bed, immersing yourself in the smell of your sheets. In you tried hard enough, you could almost smell Quinn; fucking fresh air, sunshine and amazingness.

You were losing you mind. Correction, you had lost your fucking mind.

There was a voice, _a voice_, counting your words.

That shit wasn't normal. That shit didn't just happen to people. No, it was fucking off the charts. You'd lost it. You were young and hot and you'd lost your fucking mind because of some creepy voiceover that wanted to count your words. How was that fair? And why the hell had you lost the ability to speak yesterday?

No, this just couldn't be happening. Already, this twisted situation had compromised things for you. Not only had you blown of Cheerios practice, which was going to earn you a new asshole torn by Coach Sylvester personally, you had also had to postpone your plans with Quinn. Quinn, the girl who hadn't worn her mask yesterday when she'd invited you round. The girl you were fucking in love with.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. No. No. No.

Fuck this whole situation. No. This wasn't happening. You were not going to let this happen.

Rolling off the bed, you grabbed you things and quickly headed out the house. You didn't even bother uttering a goodbye, as you couldn't stomach hearing that voice once more. It was too much. You couldn't take it. This wasn't happening.

In a daze, you entered school, shuffling round the mass of bodies still littering the hallway, and went towards your locker. It seemed you weren't as late as you thought you were going to be. With one last hallway before you reached your destination, you were startled from your thoughts and reality came crashing in on you.

"Sandbags, get in here!" Sue called, using her indoor megaphone to get your attention. Not only did it get yours, but the entire hallway's too. Fantastic, now you had an audience.

Entering her office, you stood up tall and waited patiently for her to get to her point. Sue was lounging back in her chair, her eyes pursuing over your uniform and her brow deepening. "You weren't at practice yesterday. Why?"

Unlike the bark she had used to get you in there, her tone was more curious. Taking that to be the calm before the storm, you steeled your shoulders and answered honestly. There was no easy way to go about it. If you lied and she caught you, she'd kick you off the team. Cheerios was blood in and blood out, apparently, but you were hoping Coach wasn't going to act on that part of the contract.

"I was sick, Coach" you answered, holding her gaze. There was no way she'd find out about the voices, and really, as far as you were concerned that was a sickness; the 'I'm losing my fucking mind' disease.

**Thirteen.**

Sue's eyes rose to the ceiling as she leant back in her chair. You wondered if this was the part where she monologued before ripping you a new asshole. You were ready for it, prepared, but still, the silence unnerved you.

Dropping her eyes back to you, Coach Sylvester eyed you carefully before giving you a quick nod and rising from her seat. She started hunting round her office, pulling out candles and ornaments, placing them around her desk, when she turned back to you.

"Turn in your uniform tomorrow, then vacate the area. You're off the squad. I do not want you spreading whatever viral disease you may have been cursed with by whatever higher power you pissed off. My Cheerios cannot be associated with it. Now go! Away with you!" she barked, pointing you out her office.

Unsure about what the fuck had just happened, you fumbled your way out the door, watching as she started lighting incense and waving them around the room. You didn't have a clue what the fuck was up with that. Maybe she was starting the Voodoo process or some shit, and by tonight you'd be in agony. Blood in, blood out, right?

Who knew? Sue was acting crazy, and while that wasn't new, her behaviour towards you was. She'd just kicked you off the squad because you were sick. That was unheard of. Normally, she'd take the sick and weak ones out and make them run laps until they were vomiting, so why hadn't you been subjected to that? Was this some ploy to trick you? Maybe she really was doing Voodoo in there.

Swallowing nervously, you walked to your locker, in the hopes to clear your head, but failed miserably. You had just been kicked off the Cheerios, and you hadn't even argued your case. Why? _Why?_ What was wrong with you? Cheerios was your life, kind of. You needed it. You couldn't walk the hallways of McKinley without your red, white and black armour in place.

Turning back around you marched up to Coach's office to argue your position back on the squad, but stopped abruptly when you saw Quinn leaving her office. The blonde had a frown marring her face, which only deepened when she caught sight of you.

"You're off the team," Quinn said, shaking her head in confusion. It wasn't a question but you nodded anyway. "Coach said something about you being sick and that I needed to find a better second in command, one that didn't piss off those that were in control. What did you do? Did you get in a fight with someone?"

"No," you mumbled, completely lost in everything that had just happened. "I didn't…I haven't done anything."

**Twenty.**

"Well, she can't just kick you off the squad. We need you. I need you," Quinn argued, waving her hand. You couldn't help it, but despite everything that had just happened, the warmth in your chest exploded at her words. "How are we going to win this year's Nationals without you?" she went on to say, shaking her head. "Are you sure you didn't do anything?"

"No. Just missed practice, and she knows I was sick. That's it."

**Thirty two.**

"I don't know what's going on, but I'll get you back on the team, okay?" Those hazel eyes were caught on yours and you couldn't look away. Taking a sharp breath, you nodded and licked your lips. Her mask was off, nowhere to be seen. "So, are you feeling better?"

No, you weren't. You still had a creepy voice counting your words for no reason, and you didn't know when your words would suddenly stop. Given how it happened yesterday, you assumed the same would happen today. On top of that, you'd just lost the only protection you had at this school, and tomorrow was going to be hell. So no, you were not feeling better. You were feeling worse, but you couldn't tell her that. You didn't want to tell her that.

"Yeah."

**Thirty three.**

"Good, because my mom's gone to visit Frannie and I have the house to myself this week." The way she said it, so calmly but yet full of implication had you licking your lips again, catching her attention. Those hazels dropped, and she mimicked your action, before smiling at you. "So I take it you'll come round tonight?"

Oh you'd come, you'd definitely fucking come. Hell fucking yes.

Nodding, you fought every inch of you that wanted to kiss her right there in the hallway, and folded your arms over your body. Quinn perked up further at your response and she moved closer, her body just brushing against your arm.

"I missed you last night, so you can make it up to me tonight," she whispered, her fingers burning into your hip. You were practically melting under her touch, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to nod again in agreement.

You could definitely do that for her. Abso-fucking-lutely.

Grinning like an idiot, you licked your lips once more, mesmerized by her watching you do so, and slipped out her grasp. Really, the two of you were playing with fire doing that at school, in the hallway for crying out loud, but fuck me, you didn't care. Her mask was off, she was teasing and toying you again, and it was like you were really getting your Quinn back again.

Hallelujah.

*0*0*

You don't quite know how you managed it, but you did. You somehow went the whole day without uttering another word. You had used thirty three words that morning, and as you were parked outside Quinn's house, you knew you had done the right thing by staying silent the rest of the day.

The creepy voiceover had just cut you off yesterday. No warning. No signal. It had just stopped your speech. You remember you had said hi to Quinn and then that was it, nothing else. Stupidly, you couldn't recall what number it had last said, but you knew your words were precious. You had to be careful, because for all you knew, you had two left before you couldn't say any more.

Playing it safe seemed like a much better idea than risking the voiceover's wrath. It could cut your words off, that wasn't someone you wanted to piss off.

With a content smile on your face, you got out your car and walked up to Quinn's front door. You were sure you could still speak, and you planned on using all the words you had left on her. Girl should feel lucky. Shame she'd never know.

After ringing the door, Quinn answered a few moments later, still donning her Cheerio uniform. You figured she would have changed already. Yes, you were still in yours, but only because you hadn't driven home yet. You'd had to clear your things out the Cheerio locker room and ditch all the things you no longer needed.

You opened your mouth to greet her but Quinn shook her head, her hair no longer in the ponytail she had it in earlier. Those gorgeous blonde locks of hers were loose and wild, and god your hands were desperate to sink into them. Caught off guard by where your thoughts had went, you practically fell in the door when she pulled you in the house.

"Shh," she whispered, placing a finger on your lips to stop you from speaking. "I figured since you had a pretty crappy day, I'd actually make it up to you, instead. After all, this was you last day as a Cheerio." Her finger left your lips and traced her way along your jaw and then down your neck. "So, given how much you check me out in this uniform, I'm willing to bet there's a fantasy or two running around in that head of yours. Care to make it real?" She was practically husking in your ear, making your knees weak and your mind turn to goo.

Sinful, her tone was sinful, and fuck, if it didn't make you love her even more for being willing to go along with this. The girl who was shy and bashful the first few times you had sex was now offering up one of your all-time favourite fantasies. How was that even possible?

The fucking fallen angel had been corrupted, she had to have been. Heavenly, no more. Sin, she was pure sin, and you loved it.

Rather than answer her question with an actual answer, you turned her head to yours and closed the distance quickly, kissing her like your life depended on it. You needed her. You needed her to know that you needed her. Today had been fucking awful, and there she was, mask off, and willing to cheer you up. God, this girl; you couldn't get enough of this girl.

Your hands made their way up into those locks you were admiring earlier, and you pushed her body backwards, away from the front door. Her lips were caressing yours, her teeth nipping and biting at your bottom lip, and her tongue toying with you completely. She had you spellbound as the two of you moved up the stairs, her back bent to keep the kisses going, and her hands wrapped round your neck.

No words were needed for where this was going, you both knew exactly what to expect. By now, a routine had formed. You knew what she liked and where she liked it, and she knew how to tease and please you. As with each time you found yourself in her arms, clothes gradually falling to the floor, the overwhelming urge to confess everything, to love her, surged beneath your skin.

Your fingertips danced across her skin, caressing and loving, trying to show her how much she meant to you, how sorry you were for giving up on her, and you couldn't get enough. Your lips followed, moving along the Goosebumps left in your fingertips wake, as you licked and kissed her skin in adoration. Everything about her had you transfixed, and you were a fool for ever thinking you could stop loving her.

It wasn't possible. You were in too deep. You had fallen too hard. You were incapable of ending this, of losing her.

"Quinn-" you cried, only to have her lips cut you off, igniting the fire once more.

**Thirty four. **

She wasn't done with you, and you couldn't complain. She was kissing you with as much care and passion as you'd shown her, and it had your heart singing. There had to be hope. There just had to be. Her mask was off. She was back to being the girl with the warm hazel eyes and the inviting lips. She was fresh air, sunshine and amazingness, and she was in your arms, loving you with each kiss and each caress. Or so you could pretend.

And you did. You pretended that those hazel eyes were filled with nothing but love for you as she caught your gaze. Her forehead on yours, her breath mixing with your own, her scent captivating you completely, had you falling even harder for her. It wasn't possible, but it happened. Just the thought of her loving you had you loving her even more.

God, this girl.

Sated and exhausted, you were hiding in the crook of her neck, your arm wrapped over her bare torso, and your leg hooked in hers. You had encased her, trapping her in your arms, and your heart was on fire from the notion that the two of you could pass the 'friends with benefits' line and walk on over into the 'girlfriends/lovers' side of things. You wanted that. You wanted her, you just needed to tell her.

"I made a mistake," you whispered, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

**Thirty eight.**

Quinn was, thankfully, still awake; her fingers drawing patterns on your skin, as she listened to you speak. "Hmm?"

She turned her head, her lips kissing the top of yours and waited for you to continue. Her action, if anything, backed up your idea that this was the right moment, the right time to try for more. You could do it. You could tell her you wanted more.

"I don't want to leave our feelings at the door anymore," you added, stilling in her arms for her reaction.

**Forty nine.**

She took a deep breath, her chest rising beautifully before exhaling, and then she turned her body into yours so you were facing each other. You moved your head back to look at those warm hazel eyes you loved so much, and froze.

"Go to sleep, San. You don't know what you're saying," Quinn mumbled, nuzzling into you, her eyes finally closing.

Warm, hazel eyes; that's all you had wanted to see. Instead, you got the mask; the cold, dead eyes. The robotic girl was back. She'd shut down. You'd pushed for more and she'd shut you down, pushed you away. Fucking hell.

Fighting back the whine that wanted to escape, you hid your face in her neck again and left a kiss on her skin. It burnt your lips, and you knew that she was the fire you had been playing with all along. She was always going to burn you, no matter what happened.

You had known exactly what you were saying, yet she had dismissed you. She was letting you down gently. So, okay, you could take that. Giving up was perhaps the right thing to do. She clearly didn't want more, mask on or off, so it was about damn time you accepted that.

"Night," you whispered once more, closing your eyes tightly; anything to hold back the tears of despair.

**Fifty.**

"Goodnight, San."

Without it meaning to, it felt like a goodbye. You would sleep for a few hours and then get up and leave. So actually, it was a goodbye, because tomorrow you'd have to be someone completely different.

You were done.

Quinn was unattainable, you'd lost the protection you once had at school, and your heart was breaking all over again for a blonde that wouldn't love you back. The one lesson you were meant to have learnt, and you'd failed.

Well, Satan wasn't in hell for getting straight A's, that was for sure. Therefore, maybe it was fitting that your life was turning to shit. With a name like Satan, did you really think you'd get to live in heaven with your angel? No. That would never happen and you were an idiot to think it could work like that.

It was time to face reality: you'd lost your red, white and black armour; you'd lost your best friend, you'd lost your heart to a blonde who would never love you back; and you'd gone and lost your fucking mind with that creepy voiceover.

Your world was crashing around you, and there didn't seem to be anything you could do but sit back and watch it happen. It was too late, too late to change anything, to fix things, and to recover from what was going to happen.

You'd fallen, for Quinn, from grace, and the ground was nearing closer with each breath. Tomorrow, tomorrow you'd hit those rocks and be in hell.


	9. Chapter 9: Acceptance

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Acceptance

*0*0*

Despite trying hard to ignore the one part of Friday night that made it less than perfect, you just couldn't do it. It was eating away you, constantly niggling your every thought, and you were consumed by it. The whole weekend had been spent thinking about it, and still you couldn't suss the situation out.

You had overanalysed everything Brittany had said, and everything you knew since then, and still came up blank as to why Rachel had bought her a Christmas gift. Why the hell _had_ Rachel bought her a Christmas gift?

It didn't make sense, and it just wasn't sitting right with you. They weren't friends. Yes, Rachel was giving, but out of the whole Glee club, she _only_ bought Brittany a gift. There had to be more to the situation than had been let on, and you needed to find out what it was.

You couldn't go another day not knowing why Rachel had bought Brittany a gift, and not just any gift, a gift she would adore. It was the perfect gift for her, aside from an actual duck, but of course Rachel wouldn't buy her one of them. She wouldn't buy her a gift because they weren't friends. So why had she?

Your mind kept going round in circles, and you knew lunch that Monday was going to be different. You had come prepared, and were waiting on the stage for Rachel's arrival. Beside your lunch, sitting on the end of the piano, was your notepad and number cards. There was no point tucking into your food because you were pretty sure if this conversation went downhill you'd bring it all back up again.

A part of you couldn't fathom what your brain was thinking, but another part of you was piecing together all the little bits and pieces you'd learnt about Rachel over the course of your friendship, and it definitely seemed plausible.

If her and Brittney had…if they had…fuck! If they'd been something, been together, whatever the fuck they'd been, you would never forgive Rachel. Yes, it happened before the two of you were friends, but you would think she'd have told you already. Surely she couldn't have sat there listening to you confess your feelings about Quinn and regrets about Brittany and not have said anything. They couldn't have. They just couldn't have.

However, it was the only reason you could think of. Why else would Rachel go to all that effort? She had to have liked Brittany, and foolishly, you realised you hadn't asked Brittany if she had given Rachel a gift in return. You should have done that, because if they were exchanging gifts, then there most definitely was something more going on between the two of them.

Groaning, you slumped into the piano stool and waited for the girl with all the answers. It didn't take her long, and several moments later, the doors to the auditorium were opening and she was waltzing in.

"Hey, Santana," Rachel greeted, making her way up onto the stage next to you. She was completely oblivious to your fragile and volatile mood, unfortunately. "You wouldn't believe the grade Mr. Schue gave me on my Spanish report. I know the man doesn't like me but-" You cut her off by sliding your note to her, unable to wait any longer. You watched as she took it in hand and sat on the piano stool next to you.

_You bought Brittany a Christmas gift._

Giving credit where credit's due, Rachel didn't bat an eye at your words. She read your note and nodded.

"That's a very astute observation, Santana. Yes, I did," she remarked, pulling her lunch out her bag. It was almost like she was mocking you, but you couldn't be sure. It had you on edge, however, and you could practically feel your defences flying into action.

_Why? _

Sighing, Rachel read your new note and shrugged. "It was Christmas. That's what one does at Christmas." Now she was really pissing you off. You wanted answers, and you honestly hadn't thought it would be this hard to get them from her. Why was she being so fucking difficult? What was she hiding?

_You're Jewish! _– you scribbled angrily, slamming your pen down onto the piano top. Finally getting a reaction from her, Rachel shot you a dirty look for what she would call 'attacking the piano', and then glanced briefly at the notepad.

"But Brittany isn't," she supplied, tucking into her food. Pft, of course you fucking knew Brittany wasn't Jewish. Who the hell did she think she was talking to?

_Come on, tell me! Why did you buy Brittany a gift for Christmas? _

"Santana, really, why does it matter? It was just a friendly gesture," she snapped, clenching her jaw afterwards. You could see she was desperate to change topic, but you weren't going to let that happen. You needed to know. You couldn't, you just couldn't live with not knowing.

"Because you're not friends with Brittany," you barked, giving up on the notepad.

**Six.**

"Well maybe I was trying to be friends with her. Maybe I wanted to get to know Brittany better." Rachel took a bite of her sandwich and avoided looking at you. It was frustrating as hell, and you wanted to shake the damn girl. She didn't want to talk about Brittany with you, but she wanted to get to know Brittany better. Fucking hell.

"Is she your crush?!" you cried, rising from piano stool. You didn't want to have to acknowledge that possibility, but she was leaving you no choice.

**Ten.**

You would not be able to cope if Rachel had a crush on Brittany. Just no. Absolutely not. Not possible. No way. She couldn't. That would be breaking the number one rule of friendship or something. You do not crush on, pursue, fuck, whatever, your best friend's ex.

"What? Good gosh, no! She is not…she is not my crush," Rachel denied, her voice shrinking off at the end. She had seemed almost shocked by the suggestion, and it looked genuine enough for you to push that thought to the side, for now. She still had to explain, though.

_Then why the gift? _

You wrote the note and passed her the pad gently, hoping she would see you weren't trying to be a dick about this situation. It was just the thought of Brittany and her together, and no. No. You couldn't. You couldn't think it. It was too much. It was just…no. No.

Sighing, Rachel ran a hand through her hair and sagged against the piano. You took your seat again, sitting down next to her and waited. As much as you didn't want to think it, until Rachel explained, you were sticking to the notion Rachel did in fact like Brittany. She needed to explain, because that thought was festering and becoming volatile, like your mood.

You could not be held responsible for your actions if it was true.

"Why the gift?" you whispered, fear laced within each word. Rachel's eyes shot to you and she clenched them shut, shaking her head. She took another deep breath before sitting up straighter, clasping her hands in her lap.

**Thirteen.**

"People ignore me," she began, confusing you completely. How did this have anything to do with Brittany? "People ignore me and act like I'm not there. This makes them bring their guard down, allowing me to see a side of them they don't normally show people. Brittany, she let her guard down, and I was there."

"Rachel…what are you…? Did you and Britt…?" That thought could not be finished, it was agonising to even entertain.

**Twenty one.**

"No! No! Santana, no! I would never do that…no. What I meant was, she was hurting, and you guys used to celebrate Christmas in your own little bubble. It was Santana and Brittany, always, and then, you two split up, and yes, she had Artie, but it was Christmas, and she missed her best friend. She was so sad, and so hurt, that I wanted to cheer her up."

It was your turn to sag back in relief. She hadn't…they hadn't. Thank fucking Christ. You could barely handle the notion of Brittany and Artie. Brittany and Rachel, that would kill you.

"I know she likes ducks, and I know she's good with animals," Rachel went on to say. "Having met Lord Tubbington myself, I know she has to be a saint to live with him. He's deplorable, do you know he tried to-" You raised your eyebrows and waited for her to remember who she was talking to. She chuckled humourlessly and nodded.

"Right, you do know, you've had the pleasure of meeting Lord Tubbington yourself. Anyway, she was so sad, and normally, you would cheer her up and make her smile, but you were hurting, too. It just seemed like the right thing to do, because no one should be sad at Christmas, and she loved it. It took her mind off everything, off you and Artie, and just let her enjoy herself. That's what Christmas is about, and even if I am Jewish, I still like to spread that Christmas spirit. And yes, I knew you were hurting, too, but you would have rejected any gift I gave you, and at that time, I'm sorry to say, I thought you were a lost cause. Brittany wasn't though, and I was just trying to help."

She had been trying to help, and she had succeeded. The way Brittany lit up at the mere mention of her gift from Rachel, you knew she must have adored going there. Rachel had observed the mess that was Brittany and you, and then took action, despite everything that either of you had done to her.

Anxiously, Rachel licked her lips and swallowed, still waiting for your reaction. You didn't know how to react. You didn't know what to do, what to say, how to feel. She'd gone and done it again. She'd surprised the hell out of you. None of you deserved this. None of you deserved to have her befriend you. None of you were worth it.

You had sat there and doubted her friendship to you, doubted her loyalty, and she hadn't done anything fucking wrong. In fact, she'd cleaned up your fucking mess. She'd gone in after you fucked up and made things right again. Girl truly was a saint, and everyone else was fucking scum. You, especially.

"You- you-" You tried to finish your sentence, but you kept gasping for breath. "W-we hated you! Why- how-" A full blown panic attack was settling in, and you had to get away. You had to flee.

**Twenty eight. **

Rising from the piano stool, you stormed the stage, pacing back and forth. You wanted to leave, you wanted to run as far away from Rachel as possible, because you didn't deserve to breathe the same fucking air as she did, but you couldn't. She was your best friend and you couldn't run from her. She'd take it the wrong way. She'd think she did something wrong, because that's what you had instilled in her. You had made her think she was worthless, constantly wrong, and hideous. You, you and your vengeful friends who had been so obsessed with making everyone else as miserable as yourselves.

"Fuck- we-" Taking a shuddering breath, you felt hot tears streak down your cheeks, and furiously you tried to wipe them away. You were not allowed to cry. You had done this. You had tortured her. She was allowed to cry, not you. Never you.

**Thirty.**

Feeling lightheaded, you swayed on your feet and struggled for your next breath. Rachel was immediately off the stool, gripping your waist as she gently pulled you to the floor. It was probably the safest place for you, because you were going to end up there one-way or another.

"Stop. Stop," she whispered, cradling your face in her hands and wiping the tears from your cheeks. "Don't get worked up over this. It's all in the past. I've moved on from it. You should, too. Now please, breathe for me."

"But we treated you like shit and here you are, buying us gifts and putting our lives back together and-!" you argued, shaking your head, trying to push her away.

**Fifty.**

"Santana, please, stop," she begged. "I forgive all of you, so it's time you do, too. I know you can't understand my reasoning, so just don't try to. Please, please accept the fact that I do not hold any grudge against you. All I've ever wanted is to be your friend. Okay?"

Taking calming breaths with her, you nodded and pointed towards the piano. She frowned but got up and fetched your things for you, unsure what you wanted exactly. She had no idea you'd used all your words freaking the fuck out and dragging her back through your insecurities.

First, you slid the number fifty card towards her, and then you grabbed a pen to write her a reply. She accepted the card with a nod, understanding completely and waited patiently for you to finish writing before trying to read it.

_I'm sorry for freaking out on you. You keep surprising me, and I'm not reacting to it very well. It's not an excuse, I promise. You just…you confuse me. I don't understand how you can forgive us so easily after years of torturing you. We were fucking awful, and we don't deserve your kindness. I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. _

"You need to stop saying that," Rachel replied, taking your hand in hers as she read. "And I have forgiven you all because I know deep down there are parts of each of you that are kind and caring and compassionate. The old Santana wasn't, but the new Santana, the girl I've spent every lunch with for the last two months has been all of those things and more. You're a good person who has done some bad things. Those actions don't define you, though. It's what you do to rectify those actions that do, and let me tell you, Santana, you're a good person. You apologised, and you opened yourself up in order to be friends with me. You also stopped caring about your reputation, and you embrace my crazy side. In these last few months, you've made me feel more comfortable with myself than ever before, because you looked past everything that was 'wrong' with me and decided to be my friend anyway. So yes, you're a good person, and I forgive you. Please, now, forgive yourself, for me."

Dropping your head onto her shoulder, you nodded gently and wrapped your arms round her waist. She was supporting you, letting you lean on her, and given the mental exhaustion you were facing, you were thankful for it. You didn't want to move, you just wanted to sit there with her. She didn't seem to mind, and slowly rubbed your back soothingly as you tried to pull yourself back together.

Behind closed lids, you could see every slushy, every fall of her face as you spat venomous words her way, every flinch when you body checked her into lockers, and every tear that fell before she could make it safely away from you.

You didn't deserve this girl in your life, you didn't. How she could forgive you for any of that, never mind all of it, was completely unfathomable. But she wanted you to forgive yourself. How could you? How was that even possible?

Rachel's hand dropped from your back and found your own, holding it in hers. You watched as she played with your fingers before squeezing gently to get your attention. Her eyes were pinned on you as you waited, your head sore from the tears and your heart heavy with the pain of your past sins.

"You gave me your fifty words," she whispered. Frowning, you waited for her to continue, and she didn't miss a beat before doing so. "That day, when you came to apologise to me, I was terrified it was some joke. I accepted your apology and suggested friendship because it seemed like the best thing to do. Perhaps if we were friends, I could convince you to come back to Glee Club and help us win Nationals. Anyway, it was purely for selfish reasons," she admitted, shrugging her shoulder.

This time, it was your turn to squeeze her hand, urging her to continue, so you could see where this was going. She had to be leading you somewhere, and despite not knowing where, you trusted her to get you through this conversation safe and sound.

"I honestly never expected to be friends with you, but then you were standing in the auditorium, looking scared and alone, with your lunch in hand, and I just knew. You were as miserable as I was. Whether you had always felt that way, I don't know, but at that moment, you looked defeated. That was one emotion I have never associated with you, because Santana Lopez is never defeated, even in the face of adversity and prejudice. You're strong and brave, but that day, you looked vulnerable and weak. When you inadvertently asked me to stay with you, I saw a side to you, unguarded and defenceless, that made me reassess our 'friendship'. And let me tell you, best thing I've ever done."

"For years, you have told me how much you hated me and didn't care about my wellbeing, but in this very room you saved me from having to fend for myself in the hallways, and the guilt which knocked you for six today, shows me that you care. You care about how your words and actions hurt me, and you care about making sure you don't do it again."

Rolling her eyes at herself, Rachel licked her lips and shrugged. "I was making a point, before I derailed there, and that was that you gave me your fifty words. When you finally told me that you could only speak fifty words a day, I analysed all the conversations between us that I could remember, and you gave me your words. Those words, which are so precious to you now, were given to _me_. That's why I can sit here and forgive you. That's why I can hold your hand and not fear you cutting it off. That's why I can call you my friend and not expect there to be a serious backlash. You give me your words."

As far as you could see, she deserved those words for all she had done for you, and yet because you went on a rant you couldn't let her know that. With her hand still in yours, you shuffled closer and rested your head on her shoulder, giving her a small smile for her words. It wasn't enough, but she understood, and with that, you allowed your eyes to close once more and to let everything wash over you.

Mentally exhausted and physically drained, the two of you sat there until being shooed out just after lunch ended. Wordlessly, you headed out to the parking lot with Rachel in tow. She still had her books for next class, but you definitely weren't attending yours. That just wasn't going to happen.

Reaching your car, you threw your things in the back and opened the driver's side door to get in. Rachel stepped in between the door and the car, effectively stopping you from leaving, and grabbed your attention. She was watching you with warm, open eyes, licking her lips before opening her mouth to speak.

"Don't do anything silly, okay? I can't imagine that you would, but you look so defeated right now, and I'm a little scared. So please, promise me that tomorrow you'll be at my locker. We won't talk about this, or will can, if you want to. Whatever. Just, meet me there?"

Trying as hard as possible to convey your sincerity, you nodded and hoped she knew you weren't going to do anything reckless. That was not in your game plan. Giving Rachel another hug, you nodded one more and she stepped back with a smile on her lips. It wasn't the happiest smile you'd seen on her face, but rather one of worry.

Only when you were back at home, curled up in your bed, did you pull out your phone and send a text to her. She was most likely still worrying, and you hated being the cause of her concerns. Hopefully, you could ease her worries, and let her know where you stood with her. Each step in your friendship had been fraught with self-doubt and mistrust, but things had finally changed.

_I promise, I'll be at your locker tomorrow morning. And again, thank you. You keep saving my ass, one freak out at a time. One day, I'll hopefully return the favour. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'm here for you, always. See you in the morning. x_

*0*0*

Just like you told Rachel you would, you arrived early and headed straight to her locker. You didn't want to worry her any more than you already had. Knowing her, she most likely wouldn't have been completely appeased by your text until she saw you.

Thankfully, she was there when you walked up. She was pouting at the open folder she had in her arms, glancing quickly between it and the contents of her locker. Once you were close enough, though, you gained her full attention, and her bright smile was proof of that.

"Morning, Santana," Rachel chimed, closing her folder and sliding it into her bag.

"Morning," you replied, your voice soft, almost shy.

**Twelve.**

You were sort of hoping she wouldn't mention what happened yesterday, as you wanted to forget your breakdown as much as possible. It had been good for the two of you, sure, but that didn't mean you wanted to relive the tears and the vulnerability of it all. Hopefully, Rachel knew you well enough to leave that topic alone for now.

"How many words have you used today?" Rachel asked, her smile somewhat softer. It was as if she knew you didn't want to acknowledge the events that took place in the auditorium, as if she knew moving onward from it was the best option.

Reaching into your bag, you fumbled around for your cards. Pulling them out, you hunted around for the correct ones before holding up the number one card and the number two card. She glanced round her locker door to look, and then did a double take, smiling bemusedly at you.

"Why are you holding the one and the two? Why aren't you just using the twelve card?" she pondered.

"Brittany stole all the duck cards," you grumbled, shaking your head.

**Eighteen.**

That had been a great discovery when you were checking your bag yesterday. At first, you thought you'd lost them, but then it became clear the only animal you were missing was the duck, and Brittany had been playing with them on Friday night. Of course, she would help herself to them. No doubt, in her mind, she thought she was liberating them or something as equally important given she thieved them from you.

Rachel chuckled and nodded, understanding instantly, and reached into her locker. She pulled out another pack, still wrapped in the cellophane and opened them up. After rooting through them and pulling out all the duck cards, she handed them to you, and tucked the rest away.

"My psychic abilities told me I needed to buy two copies, just in case. Once again, I am forever indebted to my gift," she said, speaking to you but really speaking to herself. "This time, please keep Brittany away from the duck cards, or any others she may wish to acquire. Think you can do that?" You nodded and fought a smile at Rachel's reprimanding tone. "Now come on, I'll walk you to your locker so you can fetch your books and we can go to class."

Smiling, you linked arms with her and headed on your way.

*0*0*

At lunch time, Rachel met you by your classroom door. It was unusual of her to do so, but given where the two of you were headed, it was nice of her to consider your reluctance to actually head back into the auditorium.

It's not as if yesterday was a huge deal, really, but she knew you were uncomfortable with the thought of going back in there. How she knew, you had no idea, because you hadn't exactly let on that going there wasn't ideal.

The auditorium had been a safe haven for the two of you, but yesterday you had let past insecurities, jealously, and possessiveness resurface and blow up in your face. You had doubted Rachel's friendship, one that was shaped and forged from the very room you were following her to, and it just didn't seem right to go back like nothing had happened.

Alas, you knew she would drag you in there kicking and screaming if she had to, so you relented and followed. Once inside, you couldn't help but look at the stage, looking much like it did yesterday, and wince at how quickly your lunch hour had turned into a mess of tears and tantrums.

Ignoring your hesitance, Rachel grabbed your hand and dragged the two of you up the middle of your old row, smack bang centre of the room. It was like old times, back when you first ventured in there. Without missing a beat, Rachel started unpacking her lunch, and you followed suit.

"I know you probably don't want to keep eating in here because of your actions yesterday, but I think you're misinterpreting how important this room is to our friendship. Without us both eating lunch in here, we never would have become friends, and we never would have forgiven each other and moved on from our troubled past. Look upon yesterday as something good, not bad, because if we hadn't cleared the air like that, it most likely would have destroyed our friendship later. That's all I'm going to say. So tomorrow, I won't drag you in here practically against your will. Instead, I'll be sitting in this chair waiting for you and I hope that you'll join me."

Rachel finished her speech by giving you a quick glance, smiling at you like all was right in the world. You couldn't even fight the genuine smile you shot back at her, accepting her words and her reasoning. It was as if that was what was needed to close that chapter and move onto a new one. Your mind was happy to lay that particular issue to rest, and in doing so, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders, like the guilt finally falling away.

Feeling slightly better, you tucked into your lunch and enjoyed the silence. It wasn't long, however, before you realised Rachel was still a little angsty in her chair. At first, it just appeared as if she were uncomfortable, but then she started giving you curious looks and you knew something was up.

She opened her mouth to say something, and then paused, just when you thought the words would come tumbling out. She was taking her time, no doubt piecing the words together carefully, wondering how to ease you into whatever she was going to say. That was her normal way of asking or telling you things, anyway.

Briefly, you wondered if she was going to amend her previous statement and bring up yesterday again, and that thought had you freezing in your chair. You were done with it, you were feeling better, for god sake don't let her bring that back up again.

"Just say it," you prompted, the tension having been built to unbearable levels. If she was bringing it up again, then you needed to get that shit over and done with sooner rather than later. You wouldn't be able to finish your lunch if she intended to leave you wondering like that for the rest of the lunch period.

**Twenty one.**

"Quinn came to me yesterday, at the end of the day," Rachel declared, looking round the auditorium, anywhere but at you. That was not what you were expecting. Okay, so she wasn't bringing up yesterday. Good. But what the hell was she talking about?

You waited, curious but anxious. Your back was ramrod straight, your hands tense, and you pursed your lips, unsure what the next move was going to be. The way Rachel was acting made you think it was bad news, but any news was good news when it came to Quinn.

"She asked me if you were feeling better." That had you frowning. When were you ill? You'd ditched school, but how did she know that? She wasn't in any of your Monday afternoon classes. Unaware of your thoughts, Rachel ploughed on. "But she wasn't really asking me that. I think she was actually asking if you could speak." Sinking back in your chair, you felt goose-bumps break out across your skin.

Quinn was asking about Fifty Words. She was inquiring about your speech. She wanted to know if you could speak. She wanted to know if you had been lying to her. Holy crap, she was actually considering the notion that Fifty Words was real!

"What did you say?" you asked, reaching out and grabbing Rachel's arm for support. Despite sitting, it still felt like your whole body was going to turn to jelly and have you sliding right out your seat and onto the floor.

**Twenty five.**

Rachel looked at you startled, but only for a second, before she licked her lips and shook her head. "I told her you weren't feeling better, and that this bug seemed difficult to clear. Who knows when she'll get her voice back," she imitated, as if talking to Quinn herself. Catching your eye again, she gave you a soft smile and waited, knowing there was a million questions you wanted to ask.

"And then what?"

**Twenty eight.**

"And then she nodded at me, like you are now, and left." Rachel worried her lip between her teeth and frowned. "I know you told her, but I thought if I was to actually address the situation, I might scare her off. That's why I continued on the lines of communication she'd given me, going along with the lie we told Glee club-"

"No. You did good. Don't worry." You gave her arm a reassuring squeeze before letting go, and sighing.

**Thirty four.**

What the hell were you to do with that information? Were you to approach her? Were you to leave her alone, and let her approach you? Had she bought what Rachel had said? Was she really interested in Fifty Words, or had she honestly thought you were sick? Sick in the head, maybe. Christ, what the fuck was your next move meant to be?

"Don't' do anything rash," Rachel said, as if reading your mind. She had a pensive look on her face, her eyes looking off at the stage, slightly glossy in appearance. "Seriously, Santana, don't do anything rash. She'll come to you." Blinking, she turned back to you and nodded to reaffirm her words.

"Psychic abilities talking?" you wondered, having never seen that side of her before.

**Thirty seven.**

"Most definitely," she replied a little sheepishly.

"Awesome." And it was.

**Thirty eight. **

Rachel smiled bashfully and shook her head. She suddenly was shy about her gift, which you found crazy given how strange your situation was, but didn't argue. Maybe she just wasn't used to someone witnessing her psychic abilities in action like that. Hell, every time you got cut off for using too many words, you became embarrassed, too. Made sense.

The two of you finished off your lunches, with Rachel filling in the silence about her Spanish homework and how she'll need your help sometime soon because Mr. Schuester was threatening to fail her. Of course he was. Without so much as a second thought, you gave her your Spanish notes to revise for the upcoming test and waved off her thanks. Like you'd said in your text the previous night, whatever she needed, whenever she needed it.

Anticipating the sound of the bell near the end of the lunch hour, the two of you packed up your things and headed for the door. Back in the hallway, you waved your goodbye and went back to your locker. You had a few minutes before the next class, and took the time to just people watch. No one was shooting you anxious looks like they used to, and no one was even remotely interested by your unimposing stance. It was such a change from what things were before Fifty Words. Though, definitely a better change.

Fifty Words was teaching you not to take things for granted, but you also realised you were a lot happier than what you used to be. You had been miserable, mostly due to your own behaviour, and partly due to that damn blonde you'd fallen so stupidly in love with. Now, though, you had friends, genuine friends who you weren't sleeping with, and yes, you were still in love with aforementioned blonde, but it wasn't as doomed as what it was before. At least, you hoped it wasn't.

Without meaning to, your eyes sought out Quinn's locker, and you were pleasantly surprised to see the girl herself. There she was, leaning against her locker next to hers and looking round the hallway, oblivious to you. Five steps and you would be standing next to her. Five steps and you could touch her. Five steps and you could kiss her. Christ, you missed those lips. You missed them, her, so fucking much.

Rachel's warning rung through your head abruptly, pulling you back to reality. Don't do anything rash, she'd warned; seriously, Santana, don't do anything rash. How could you ignore her? She had told you that for a reason, and this was it, for sure.

You wanted to, you desperately wanted to take those goddamn five steps and close the distance between Quinn and yourself, but you couldn't. You weren't meant to. Rachel's tone had been strict and wary, as if the consequences of your rash action would not be pretty.

It had taken you months just to get a smile out of Quinn, so were you really going to risk all your hard work for a poor attempt at conversation or a kiss she didn't want?

No. No, you weren't. You had a plan, Rachel's plan, and you were sticking to it.

Turning back to your own locker, you started looking out your books for your afternoon classes, and then froze. Someone had leant on the locker next to yours, behind the locker door and hidden from view. It easily could have been Rachel, but Rachel didn't make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end like that. Rachel didn't make your heart flutter so.

Closing the door softly, you chanced a look and there she was, right fucking there. It felt like an apparition, that she was going to disappear at any moment. Maybe you really were dreaming, though. Fifty Words made you crazy, so apparitions weren't far off, right?

Glancing back to Quinn's locker, you noticed that no, she wasn't still standing there, and yes, this was actually Quinn Fabray leaning on the locker next to yours, staring intently at you. Licking your lips, you finally made eye contact, and melted straight into the goddamn hazels. They were like a welcoming hug from a loved one after a long absence. You missed them, her, and you were sure that they, she, missed you.

"How many?" she whispered, leaning closer to you.

You didn't have a fucking clue what she was asking you, and you frowned. You felt helpless, needing her to explain, to add more to that question. She could have been asking about anything, and hell, this really wasn't helping convince you that she really wasn't an apparition.

"How many words do you have left today?" she repeated.

You froze, taking a shaky breath as you did so and licked your lips again, swallowing quickly. Fumbling for your cards, you dropped a few on the floor, which Quinn quickly bent down to pick up. She chuckled and shot you a quizzical look, holding them up for you to see.

"Cute cards," she remarked, handing them back to you as you searched for her answer.

"Rachel," you murmured, hunting for the correct number.

**Thirty nine.**

"Of course." Some of the warmth disappeared, and she looked away from you, down to the floor instead. Something was off with her tone, but you couldn't place it, so continued to look for the right card.

Finally finding it, you held up the number thirty nine for her to see. Quinn's lips quirked as she read it, then nodded in understanding.

"You're using them; your words" she observed. "And you apologised to the Glee Club." Mulling over her own words, Quinn chewed her bottom lip between her teeth and leant a little closer; too close. "Yet you never came back to talk to me." Sadness, that was the other emotion lurking deep within her hazel eyes.

"I wanted to give you time."

**Forty five.**

"It's been months," she choked out, her eyes tearing away from yours to scan the hallway. "I thought you'd given up."

"Isn't that what you wanted?" you whispered back. You needed to know what she was thinking. Did she want you to stop? Did she want you to fix the big fucking mess you'd made? You needed a clue, some kind of indication, anything.

**Fifty.**

"Yes," she muttered, shaking her head. "Yes, that's exactly what I wanted you to do." You watched as she covered those gorgeous hazel eyes with her mask, and they became cold and withdrawn. They honed in on yours, and you knew the next words were going to sting. "When you've decided I've had enough time to work my shit out and actually deserve an apology, why don't you come and find me, unless you're too busy with Rachel that is."

She stormed away, narrowly missing Rachel who had just turned into the hallway. You watched as shel bounced back out the way, but not escaping without a vicious glare being sent her way. Quinn rounded the corner out of sight, while Rachel's eyes sought you out. Why Rachel had received such a reaction from the blonde, you didn't know.

Frowning, you were confused as fuck. You thought you were doing the right thing by giving Quinn time. You thought that's what she needed. You didn't think she was going to get pissed at you for not immediately returning to her. She had been furious with you, had pushed you away, shot down your attempts to catch her eye or even be alone together. So how, after all that, could she be angry at you for listening to her? You hadn't given up, you just needed to know if she believed you about fifty words. That was all. That was why you delayed.

Whining, you fell back against your locker and fought any further depressing noises from escaping. Immediately, Rachel was in front of you, holding your hand, her eyes searching yours widely.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Her tone was anxious, worried and frayed. You grabbed your cards and help up the fifty card, showing her you had none left. Unfazed by your lack of words, she pulled a notepad and a pen from her back and handed them to you.

_She hates me. This hasn't worked. She's angry I didn't go talk to her after apologising to everyone. She thinks I don't want to apologise to her for all the shit I put her through. _

Rachel's was frowning in sadness, and shook her head before leaning closer, so the rest of the hallway wouldn't hear.

"I promise you, this is a good thing. She's scared of what's going on, of how she feels about you, and she's lashing out. She cares, Santana. She wouldn't have approached you if she didn't. Don't take her words to heart. She's hurting. Give it time." She gave you her best smile, and you returned it as best as you could. Hopefully, it didn't look like a grimace. "Come on, let's go see a movie and after I'll treat you to BreadstiX or something. Let's just get out of here."

You frowned at pointed at your American History textbook, indicating your next class, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I tell you I want to ditch for the first time ever and you want to attend class. What is wrong with the world?" she muttered, shaking her head again. "Please, ditch with me, I really don't feel like going to Spanish this afternoon."

Grinning, you nodded and shoved your books back in your locker. You hadn't properly ditched school in ages. Months, in fact. Yesterday really didn't count, because you had managed to score a doctor's note from your father saying you were sick. But today, you wouldn't get away with that excuse again. Previously, you had been playing it safe, because you didn't have the words to lie or threaten your way out of any trouble you landed in. With Rachel, though, she could talk enough for the both of you. Plus, this was her first time ditching school, and she wanted to ditch with you. How could you turn her down?

Holding out your arm for her to link it with hers, Rachel did just that and beamed. Together, the two of you walked out towards the car park, and quickly jumped in your car. Words or no words, you were going to make Rachel's first ditching experience a memorable one.

Quinn would need to wait. Whatever her problem was, it most likely wasn't going anywhere. She was angry at you, but she had warmed up to the idea of Fifty words being true. Therefore, it wasn't a total loss. Technically, things were still moving forward. You needed a little bit longer. You needed time to see if she could hold out, believe you fully, and wait for your apology. You did owe her one, and you intended to apologise for how you treated her, but first, you needed her to accept you.

The girl sitting in your passenger seat accepted you fully, flaws and all, so why couldn't Quinn? She claimed to love you, or she had said several months ago, but was it really love if she wasn't willing to accept Fifty words and all its hang ups? Yes, it was crazy, but you were a little crazy, and Quinn was fucking psycho at times. Surely, with time, the situation would improve. She'd come around, you'd apologise, and then all would be right again. Surely, that was possible.

Sighing, you shook the thoughts clear from your head and focused back on the road in front of you. You'd fix the situation with Quinn later. For now, Rachel and you had plans.

*0*0*


	10. Chapter 10: Losses, Lies & Regrets

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Losses, Lies & Regrets

*0*0*

Coach Sylvester accepted your freshly dry-cleaned uniform with a glare and ushered you out of her office as fast as possible. She was eyeing you up like you were the devil incarnate, which you thought was oddly fitting. You felt like Satan, so it shouldn't be a surprise if you were starting to look like one too.

Turning back into the hallway, you stuck close to the wall and glanced round at the rest of the students. No one was really looking at you, a nice change from when you first entered the building. This was the first day you were going without your red, black and white armour. When you had stepped through those doors earlier, you caught everyone's attention.

It was an odd sight for them to behold, you were sure. It had been an odd sight for you to behold back home when you were looking at yourself in your mirror. It felt wrong, scary and a small part of you wondered if you could fake being sick for the week. You couldn't; your father would worry and send you to a specialist to get checked out. It wasn't worth the effort.

So instead, you swallowed your fear and got yourself to school. You knew it wouldn't be easy, and the lead weight in your stomach was proof of that every time someone glanced your way too long. It was as if they couldn't work out who you were, and then when it clicked, they would scowl, smile or smirk. The last one was the most alarming, the one you feared the most.

Those were the people who you had torn down, humiliated, and embarrassed. Those were the ones who loved your 'fall from grace', as it were. Those were the ones you were going to have to fight tooth and nail against. They could go to hell if they thought you were going to sit back and take their shit. Cheerio or not, you were still Santana Lopez.

Unfortunately, you really didn't feel like Santana Lopez when skulking round the corridors, trying to avoid as many people as possible. You knew it was going to take time to get used to, you just hadn't thought your Cheerio uniform offered you that much protection. If you had the ability to scream and shout your Spanish curses at them like there was no tomorrow, then it wouldn't have been a problem. But you couldn't. You had to limit your words.

You couldn't waste them. You needed each and every one of them. As of yet, you still didn't know how many words you were going to have before they cut out on you. It was unnerving, like a guillotine waiting to fall at any second. You knew you had some words, but how much was some?

The only way to work that out was to count them, which was exactly what you intended to do. However, that required you flying under the radar and not getting into arguments with your peers, the ones holding slushy cups and eyeing you mischievously.

You just knew, by the end of the day, you were going to be covered in at least one flavour of the ice cold corn syrup mixture. Karma, right?

Swallowing the lump in the throat that thought brought up, given just how many slushy attacks you'd ordered, laughed at, participated in, you continued your ducking and diving journey to your first class. If you could just avoid as many students as possible, that would be great.

There was also the matter of keeping away from Quinn.

You were embarrassed, the heat rising in your cheeks every time you thought of those foolish words you had uttered the previous night. You didn't want to leave your feelings at the door anymore. What a fucking pansy you were. What a stupid fucking thing to say. You were a moron, an idiot, a complete and utter imbecile for even daring to say such words.

What did you expect to happen? Did you honestly think she would roll over, confess her undying love for you and the two of you would ride off into the sunset together? Really, what did you think was going to happen?

She was never going to feel the same way. She was never going to see you as more than a fuck buddy. No matter how much you liked, cared, loved her, she was never going to return the feelings. And hell, even if she did, she would never act on them. She was Quinn Fabray, _Quinn Fabray_, the perfect little Christian girl who was expected to marry a good Christian man and have gorgeous Christian babies.

She was not meant to be rolling about in the sheets with you four times a week, crying out your name instead of the Lord's. Nor was she meant to fall to her knees and pray to you, rather than the Father Almighty.

She was sinning with you in the dark of night, behind closed doors, and away from the reproachful eye of her God and Church. The Angel had truly fallen, but she wanted the best of both worlds. She wanted to keep up her perfect image, her faith, her morality, then lie in Satan's arms and forget about the consequences.

You couldn't take on that responsibility. You loved her, you adored her, but you were her secret, her embarrassment, her sin. You could love her until your dying breath, but she would only love you in solitude and secrecy.

Maybe it was good she didn't return your feelings then. Maybe you had just dodged a bullet. Maybe she was meant to be forever out of your reach. Maybe your fallen angel was never truly going to join you in the pits of hell. Maybe you were a lost cause.

Sighing, you returned to the then and there, rather than the swirling thoughts clogging up your head, and ducked into your first class of the day. All you had to do was keep your head down, pay attention when you used your words, and hopefully stay under the radar for as much of the day as possible.

Easy.

*0*0*

Apparently, you misunderstood what the word easy meant. Easy usually means not difficult, not requiring much effort, work or thought. You, on the hand, clearly took easy to mean damn near fucking impossible.

Your words: they slipped and fell from your lips before you could stop them. Your presence: felt round the whole school once word had spread you were back among the herd. Your patience: wearing thin from each stare, glare and cocky smirk.

And fuck, it was only lunch.

Heading back to your locker, you began changing your books, hiding your eyes from those staring, and bit back the overwhelming urge to let your emotions escape. They were wearing you down, their looks, their taunts, their hands clasping full slushy cups.

You refused to break; you refused to show them that you were irked by their united show of defiance against you. Where you once were at the top of the ladder, you were now firmly at the bottom, and they were making sure you knew that.

Swallowing, you tucked your hair behind your ear and took a deep breath. There felt like a crowd gathering behind you, which only meant one thing, and the last thing you wanted to do was turn to face them. You were not a coward, though. Well, you weren't a coward to them. Quinn, she was completely different. You were most definitely a coward when it came to her.

Speak of the devil and the devil doth appear.

Eyes forward, gazing at your lynch mob, you were met with warm hazel ones staring back at you, and a wall of red, black and white armour separating you from _them. _

"Coming to lunch, S?" Quinn asked, a small smile playing on her lips.

The Cheerios had their backs to you, protecting you, and none of them seemed fazed by the looming number of slushy cups before them. How Quinn had managed to coerce them into doing this, you didn't know, but you were eternally thankful.

"Definitely," you replied, shooting her a grateful look.

**Twenty seven.**

Quinn beamed at you and started to move, the Cheerios falling in line with her. She paused and waited for you to stand next to her, ensuring your safety, and then the two of you led the way to the cafeteria.

"Uniform or not, you're still a Cheerio, and the school needs to remember that." Her words gave you the courage to straighten your spine, walk with your head a little bit higher, and ignore the lead weight in your stomach for good.

After procuring lunch for the both of you, Quinn led you to a table away from the rest of the Cheerios, and indicated for you to take a seat. It looked like it was only going to be the two of you. Given her past behaviour, you were a little surprised, but decided against saying anything. Her eyes were still warm and welcoming, and you were not going to do anything to bring down her mask.

Tucking into your lunch, you waited for her to speak. You needed some kind of indication as to where you stood with her after last night. She had brushed your words off, pulled you into her touch, fallen asleep with your head in the crook of her neck, and blindly sought you out when you snuck away several hours later. No words were exchanged as you found your clothes, and you were certain she hadn't even woken.

So sitting there, eating lunch like everything was fine, was messing with you. You were off the team, so she really shouldn't have sat with you, given Coach Sylvester telling you to stay away from her precious Cheerios. As head Cheerio, Quinn should abide by those rules, but yet, there she was, looking at you curiously as she wiped a napkin over her lips, captivating your gaze.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Quinn asked, her tone trying ever so hard to be nonchalant but failing. Perhaps she had woken when you had snuck out, dragging your limp and bruised heart behind you as you went.

"Why wouldn't we be?" you questioned, looking everywhere but at her. Her question had you shifting in your seat, approaching unfamiliar ground.

**Thirty one.**

You may have given up on her but that didn't mean you couldn't still sleep with her, did it? You were the only one losing out on this arrangement. You were the only one suffering. Quinn wasn't bothered in the least, by the looks of things. She was quite happy to warm your bed with no emotional attachment, so why give that up?

The warmth in your chest could be ignored. The burn from her fingertips could be fixed. The euphoria from her hazel eyes could be shut out. All of it, every single emotion she evoked in you aside from lust could be pushed down and locked out. You could do that. You had been doing that. You were good at that.

You were a fucking liar.

But you couldn't give her up. If she wanted you to kiss her lips, nuzzle her neck, pin her hands to the bed and worship every inch of her body, you would. You would do it as long as she wanted you. Her heart may be unattainable to you, but her body was not. It was willing and pliant under your touch, why would you give that up?

She was going to burn you, burn you so bad you wouldn't be able to recover, but you had to get used to the fire. The burning inferno called hell, your home, was where you would forever reside. She was going to be up above the clouds when this ended, back in God's favour, and you would be watching from the pits of hell, pining for the angel to fall from grace once more.

You knew you were going to be hurt by her, but the pain she inflicted was nothing compared to the pain you would feel from her absence. You needed to seize every moment together as if it would be your last, because any day now, Quinn may just decide that she has rebelled enough, sinned too much, and repent.

"I just thought, after last night, you might not wish to," Quinn replied, licking at her lips. The fact that she had even acknowledged your words from last night spoke volumes, and you couldn't help but feel like the fly caught in her spider's web.

"I was wrong," you lied. "Things would never work out the way I would like, so why even entertain the thought?"

**Fifty.**

The words tasted like gravel in your mouth, and you swallowed quickly to keep more words at bay. It became harder to do so as Quinn sunk back in her seat, eyeing you carefully, the warmth and light in her eyes flickering away with each passing second.

"Is that how you really feel? That if we were ever to _explore_ the meaning behind those words, it wouldn't be worth it?" Her voice was cold, calculating, and her walls were back up.

You dropped your shoulders and nodded, unable to say the words. You didn't dare open your mouth in case the truth slipped out. She wasn't really asking if exploring your feelings for her would be worth it, she was asking if she was worth it. Was she worth the trouble of sorting out the mess both of you had created?

Yes, yes she was. She was worth all the trouble and more. You would take the venom and homophobic hatred if you could just walk down the hall with her hand in yours. You would take the body checks and 'accidental' knocks to your person if she was there to kiss your bruises better. You would take the wrath of God himself if it meant she'd love and be with you.

"I guess it's good that you changed your mind then," Quinn added, straightening her posture.

You went to agree but found that you couldn't actually agree with her. Not because of some underlying feeling to disagree, but because your mouth and vocal chords wouldn't make the sound needed. You frowned and tried to ask Quinn to repeat what she had said, just to test a theory, and nothing came out.

Fifty.

Fifty was your limit.

Fifty words, seriously? That was fucking bullshit. Fifty words was nothing. Fifty words wasn't anything! What the fuck were you meant to do with only fifty words?

"So tonight, let's say six o'clock, yours?" Falling back into the conversation, you nodded, knowing there was no point of even attempting to give a verbal response.

Quinn nodded in return and went back to her lunch, giving you time to contemplate your new discovery. Honestly, you were pissed. You were pissed at her for accepting your bullshit lies, you were pissed at yourself for lying in the first place, and you were pissed at whatever higher power had stolen your words, because fifty, fifty fucking words was nothing!

Silently stewing in your own anger, you forced down as much of your lunch as possible and fought back every instinct telling you to cry. You were so angry the tears wanted to escape, your body trying to force some kind of emotion from you just to release it from your body.

Clearing her thought after finishing her lunch, Quinn caught your eye and cocked her eyebrow, hands firmly on her tray. She smirked and stood up, standing next to the table as her eyes bore into yours.

"I see it's going to be one of _those_ nights, then," she remarked, licking her lips slowly, her hazel eyes lighting up at the sight of your dark and dissolute stare on her. "Just don't mark my neck, Coach will kill me if she catches sight of another hickey. Anyway, I'll see you later." With that, the blonde turned and walked away, with an extra sway in her hips. She knew you'd be watching, that you were sure of. But how could you not? She looked fantastic in that damn Cheerio's skirt.

Sinking back in your chair, your lunch abandoned, you sighed and shook your head. It was going to be one of _those _nights, except you weren't going to have any words to growl and husk in her ear as she falls undone beneath your touch. Instead, you were wordless, and were going to have to make the best with what you could. Quinn still expected to be fucked senseless, which you would do, but you just wouldn't be vocal about it.

Maybe if you played your cards right, you could pretend you were angry at her for ignoring your blatant feelings for her. Maybe you wouldn't even need to pretend.

*0*0*

Wednesday's show of support from the Cheerios took the target off your back, and miraculously, you had survived the week without a single slushy attack. You knew Quinn had everything to do with it, and a huge part of you wanted to thank her, but you weren't going to. She'd want an explanation, and you didn't want to explain how much her protection meant to you.

You were still resigned to your fate with her, and Wednesday night's activities had cemented the fact that while you were willing to still fall into bed with her, you were hurt. As much as you tried to hide it, your pain had seeped through.

Apparently, a rough fuck to release some of that anger wasn't what you needed.

She had come to yours, looking as gorgeous as always, as willing and eager as your first night together, and without further ado, you had her against your bedroom door. Despite her warnings, you marked her neck, painting a picture of possession across her porcelain skin. It was all you could do, leaving a trace of yourself on her so she couldn't forget about you after the fact.

It worked, too. Some of the hickeys were too dark to completely cover, and she looked like she'd been attacked all week long. Her playful glare was enough to have your smug ass smirking at the mere sight of her. With or without your words, you still were able to lay claim to her, and you wanted to pat yourself on the back for doing just that.

The hickeys weren't enough to satisfy your thirst for her on Wednesday night, however. You wanted to break her, ruin her for anyone else. You wanted to consume her completely, leaving no trace of her for others. At least, that's what you thought you wanted.

The roughness and demands you were making on her body eventually subsided, and before you knew it, you had tears running down your cheeks as you kissed every inch of her. She was your angel, and you were abusing your right to touch her body. You loved her, and you needed to show her just how much.

So you did, you tried to express every ounce of emotion you held for her, but at the end of the night, she still walked away. Quinn had to know you were in pain, she had to know you had lied to her about your feelings, but she was avoiding that topic like a demon would avoid holy water.

You had given up on her ever loving you back, but your heart still did everything in its power to make her happy, even if it meant sacrificing itself. You had put yourself out there for her, hoping she'd return the sentiment, but given how that had blown up in your face, you knew it was better to be the one worshiping her up close than watching her from afar.

She had a hold on you that you just couldn't break, and one you didn't want to. It hurt to know she only wanted you for your body, but you were resigned to it. You had to be, you couldn't lose her. Maybe if you kept trying, kept loving her, she would love you in return. Maybe if you kept kissing those lips with the tenderness of soul mates, she would take the wrath of her God, her church, her family, and be with you.

That unspoken rule still stood, however, and as long as it did, you didn't stand a chance. Despite spewing forth your inclination for something more, emotions, feelings, longing and love, all had to be kept out of the equation. It was sex. It was rough, teasing, quick, and cold. It was a means to an end. You had tried to take things to the next level with her, admitting there even was something other than sex and friendship between the two of you, and given her response, it was pointless doing so.

Accepting that, swallowing that bitter pill, meant giving her what she wanted from the relationship, and you'd giver her everything she wanted. You were hers to do with what she pleased. You were a pathetic mess, all for a girl who didn't care about you other than what you could do with your tongue and nimble fingers. Still, she would lead, and you would follow. That's just how it was.

So a week after she stood up for you in the hallway, bringing you back up the social ladder, you were still falling into bed with her.

That Monday night was filled with soft and careful caresses, light and tender kisses, and a warm and hopeful gaze. Wednesday was a quickie in the backseat of your car that was met with so much vigour on her part, you almost came without her hands anywhere near you. Then to finish off the school week, Friday night was a rough, wild, and wanton fuck, void of any feeling whatsoever.

You had learnt by that Friday to lose yourself in the body beneath you, regardless of whose it was. You were growing, learning, controlling your emotions better than before, or at least when it came to Quinn.

As for your words, that was a whole other problem.

It turned out that managing your words was much harder than you thought it would be. They would just slip out, and then you were down ten for the rest of the day. It was ridiculous. Half the time, you didn't even mean to say anything, or didn't think you had said anything, and then that damn ominous voice rang out and reminded you of your fuck up.

The only good thing about it was that it counted up to fifty and not down to zero. That would have been horrific, constantly putting you on edge. At least by counting upwards, there was always that hope that one day, _one day_, you might get to hear **fifty one. **While you doubted it would ever happen, you prayed and hoped, because for now, it was driving you insane that you got so few.

Already on your way to school that Monday, you had lost seventeen words. Seventeen! You didn't even know how. You said hi to your parents, at the same time, as you left the house, then you arrived at school, and somewhere in between that you lost sixteen words.

Singing was out, you learnt that the hard way yesterday when you lost thirty rapping to some shit on the radio, but maybe you had sung without realising. You have done that before, but now it was more noticeable. And maybe you yelled at that car that cut you off, or maybe it was the Spanish you failed to bite back when you got out your car to see Berry's face getting eaten by a T-Rex.

Regardless, you had thirty three left, and you wanted to make them count. That meant talking to Quinn. Everyone else could go to hell. You needed to talk to her. Texting and writing shit on each other's Facebook pages made up for the lack of words, but you wanted to hear her voice. You needed to hear her voice, and have her laugh at something you said, and just be.

You were getting better in the bedroom at hiding your emotions, but at school, you were a complete sap, pining after the girl at every opportunity. It made sense, given at school you both had to remain clothed and there would be no quickies in the choir room. Here, you had the chance to woo her whilst staying dressed, and that was not something you were going to pass up.

First on the agenda, however, was to make your exit from Glee club. The last few meetings had been tense as you struggled to mime the words along with the songs, hoping no one noticed. It hadn't been working, and the others were growing tired with your lack of commitment to the club. You had no option. With fifty words dictating your life, you had to quit. It was the only way you would be able to keep your secret.

First Cheerios, now Glee Club. Fifty words really liked to fuck up your life, that was for sure.

With thirty three words, you sought out Mr. Schue in his office, and knocked on the door three times. He called for you to enter, and offered you a seat, clearly surprised at your being there. Normally, you didn't step foot in his office unless he had ordered you to come there. Being there of your own free will was something he obviously wasn't expecting, if the shock on his face was anything to go by.

"Santana, what can I help you with? Take a seat, take a seat," he called, grinning at you after the shock had worn off.

"I'm quitting Glee," you stated, hoping to conserve as many words as possible.

**Twenty.**

Immediately, the man looked concerned, and no wonder; with your departure, the Club wouldn't have enough members to compete. Too bad that wasn't your problem anymore.

"May I ask why? Is Coach Sylvester making you pick? Is that why you were kicked off the Cheerios?" His concern was only mildly nauseating, and you shook your head in reply.

"Glee's just not my thing anymore," you explained, beginning to get up. Really, you shouldn't have sat down in the first place. It obviously made him think you were going to have a heart to heart about your problems. Well, that wasn't happening. You seriously doubted Mr. Schue would be able to help with your fifty word debacle.

**Twenty six.**

"But you love Glee, Santana. You're one of our best singers, and everyone will miss you. We're a family, and if you're going through a rough patch at the moment, that's okay. We can help you. Why don't you come to Glee this afternoon and we can talk this over with the group. I'm sure they'd love to convince you themselves that you should stay and stick this out with us."

His eyes were begging you to reconsider, but that wasn't happening. You wanted to, fuck you wanted to stay, to sing to your heart's content, but most songs were longer than fifty words, and you couldn't lose that many in one sitting. They were too precious.

"No. I'm done." Not waiting for his response, you quickly made your exit and shut the door behind you. All you had to do was tell him, so he didn't bitch you out for not turning up. Job done.

**Twenty nine.**

Really, you should have felt like a weight had been lifted, but instead, you felt crushed by the realisation that you were done with Glee until further notice. Sadly, there was nothing you could do, and accepting another loss, you went back to your locker to grab your things for your afternoon classes.

You still had twenty one words left, and as a certain blonde was leaning against your locker, the sadness of losing Glee was replaced with hope for the girl waiting on you. She always could make everything better, and she did.

*0*0*

As much as you'd like to pretend things were going smoothly between Quinn and yourself, you knew things were unravelling fast. It was only going to be a matter of time before it all fell apart. Each and every kiss of hers hurt you more than the last, and every time she left your bed, she broke your heart one more time. It was shattered and useless, and it was becoming too much. So yes, you knew things were going to self-combust, you just hadn't realised it would have been so soon.

*0*0*

Another Friday night, another round of kisses and caresses on Quinn's submissive skin. Once again, she was tangled up in your sheets, your eyes watching her arch into your touch, whimpering for more. You were offering her everything, and she still begged for more, your name falling from her lips like gospel.

If you shut out the voice of reason in your brain, you could almost convince yourself that she was calling your name in love, crying out in raptures for you to love her. It was becoming harder to shift the dream back to reality as you kissed her skin, working your way up her neck as your hand worked her over. She was beneath you, meeting your passion completely, your love for her being matched by her love for you, even if it was all in your head.

You had to stop.

Mixing up those two, thinking she actually loved you was dangerous. She was just using you for sex, enjoying your skilful ministrations, but you were confusing her vocal appreciation as something more. You couldn't afford to do that. You needed to stop. You needed to regroup before you confessed it all.

The words were sitting on the tip of your tongue, just waiting to fall out. You were ready to confess, to admit your love for her, to bow down and offer her your heart so openly, but you couldn't. She'd reject you, and then there would be no going back.

Once you said those words, that would be it. No more sex. No more kisses. No more hazel eyes looking into your soul. No more Quinn. She'd walk away and you would be left heartbroken and alone. You couldn't. You needed to pull yourself together.

The only way to do that was to stop.

"Quinn, I can't," you whimpered, shaking your head into the crook of her neck. If you didn't look at her, maybe you could control yourself.

**Forty six.**

"You can," she husked, pull your lips back to hers and kissing you harder, burning into your skin. Always burning, always setting you alight and watching you burn. It was too much. You couldn't keep doing this. You were breaking apart.

"Quinn, please-" you begged, your voice breaking as you realised your mistake. This was only going to end badly.

**Forty nine. **

One word.

Slinking back, you tried to put distance between the two of you, and reached for your clothes. That was enough to have her sitting up, watching you with cold eyes as she pulled the sheet to cover herself. For that, you were thankful, because your lust was trying to kick-start your brain into going back to her, kissing her and loving her for the release you so desperately needed.

Your heart was holding out, though.

"Please, what?" Quinn asked, glaring as she threw on her shirt, bra still discarded on the floor. "What do you want from me? I've tried to make this work, I've followed your rules, I've kept you in line, but you have to stop toying with me like this. I can't do it!" she argued, shaking her head at you.

You watched her climb from the bed and slide on her underwear. She was looking for her skirt and shoes, attempting to find them in the heap of clothes on the floor, all the while still venting at you.

"I can't keep doing this, Santana. You want just sex, then you want more, then you want only sex again, emotionless and cold sex, except it's not. You kiss me like I mean the world to you, but then you crawl out my bed or you roll onto your side and shut me out. I can't keep this up," she admitted, her face crumbling under the weight of her confession.

Frozen, you waited for her to say more. She didn't. She ran her hand through her hair and waited for you to speak. When it was clear you weren't going to, she let out a humourless laugh and grabbed the last of the things. Walking towards the door, she stopped with her hand on the handle and turned back to you.

"What are you scared of?" she whispered, pleading you with her eyes to say something, anything. "I told you I loved you and you shut me out. I made the first move, and since then I've been following your rules. Half the time I don't even know what you want. So make your damn mind up, please."

The door shut behind her with a soft click, and you heard her making her way down the stairs, the front door closing moments later.

You couldn't move. You couldn't think. Her words, they didn't make sense. They were wrong. She had confessed to loving you in a state of euphoria. It wasn't genuine. It couldn't have been. She didn't mean it. She couldn't have. But her words, her words just then made it sound like she had. She had meant it. She had loved you, past tense because fuck, you kept shutting her out. She was as confused as you were.

She had wanted you, and you told her to keep her feelings at the door. From then on, you had been dictating without even realising it, and with that comprehension, you slammed your fist into the mattress next to you and whined out a sob. She had been yours, and you had thrown her heart away so carelessly.

There was only one way forward, one way to fix this. You had to tell her. You had to try. You had fix this. You couldn't lose her. She had loved you once, maybe still loved you, so it was time to buck the fuck up and tell her. You needed to, because if you didn't, you really were going to lose her for good.

Rolling over, face buried into the pillow, and let all the pent up anger and sadness out in your tears, soaking the fabric beneath you. It wasn't too late, but you had fucked things up. If only you'd taken her seriously, things would have been very different, and you longed to go back and fix it.

You longed to hear her utter those three words to you once more, but now it seemed as if she'd never say them.

You couldn't blame her, you weren't thrilled with your actions either.

*0*0*

The following Monday, you looked for Quinn at every chance you had. She was a ghost, however, and nowhere to be seen. You couldn't find her, no matter how hard you looked. You even resorted to asking others if they'd seen her; they hadn't. You went the whole day without a sighting, so it was no surprise that she didn't come round that night. If she had, you weren't quite sure what you would have done.

Over the weekend, you had made the decision to come clean, to tell her how much she meant to you. You wanted to be with her, if she'd be with you. While you were convinced you could tell her as much, you knew when those hazel eyes were pinned on yours that it wouldn't be so easy.

So with a slight moment of relief, you noted that Quinn was absent on Tuesday as well. You wanted to tell her, you really did, it was just going to take a lot out of you, and with things already being so difficult, you weren't sure how much energy you had left to give.

The heartache was getting to you, the anger and frustration of having lost your opportunity before was messing with your head, and the constant presence of fifty words and your voiceover were driving you round the bend.

With Quinn out the picture, you had no one to talk to, and those two days were lonely. That isolation continued on the Wednesday when you spotted Quinn in the hallway before first period, her eyes landing on yours, and the shake of her head telling you she wasn't ready to talk.

You kept your distance, not wanting to impose, and you let your words rot away. They were not as important to you if you couldn't spend them on the girl that mattered most to you.

Thursday continued in a similar fashion, alone, away from prying eyes, and spent quietly brooding in the corner of empty classrooms. Of course, with the distance growing between Quinn and yourself, so did the security detail. The Cheerios knew something was up between you and their leader, and in turn, chose the side that kept them on the squad. It was inevitable.

All week you had been dodging students holding slushy cups, and praying that you'd make it another day without the cruel baptism of ice.

Quinn had the power to protect you, but she'd stopped. She kept sending you away, keeping her distance and hiding from your curious gaze, which only meant one thing. She'd given up on you ever talking about the mess that had been created between the two of you.

She had said that she couldn't keep doing this, screwing you and possibly loving you, so it made sense for her to stay away. What frustrated you most, however, was that she had pushed you to try and now wasn't even around to see you do so.

You were ready. You were willing. You needed to be with her. You wanted a shot, one chance. So on that Friday, a week since you'd last spoken to her, you approached her locker with newfound determination and waited for her to acknowledge you. Once you had her attention, you explained exactly what you wanted.

"We need to talk, I'm ready to talk. Tonight, please, let's fix this…us."

**Fourteen. **

Her eyes flickered to yours and she took a moment to think it over. You were standing a mere foot away from her and every cell in your body was crying out for you to take her face in yours and kiss that frown from her brow. You wanted to hold her, to have her hold you and forget about the packed corridor surrounding you both. You wanted her, and she needed to know that.

You were ready, you needed to tell her.

"Okay," she replied, nodding softly. "Come to mine after eight, my mom will be out. We'll talk then."

"Thank you, you won't regret this," you whispered, taking a step back before you took one forward and crushed her body to yours.

**Twenty.**

Quinn closed her locker and gave you one last look before heading off to class. You followed suit, and from then on it was a waiting game. You should have been used to it as you had been waiting to talk to her all week, so what was a few more hours? It was torture, however.

She kept glancing at you throughout the day, almost as if she was trying to work out what you were going to say. You couldn't understand how it was not obvious. You had been trying to make it clear for months now on how you felt about her. Surely, she wouldn't think you were going to back out now, because you weren't, you were all in.

All you had to do was wait for tonight to tell her, and tell her in thirty words or less.

*0*0*

It wasn't going to be easy, you knew that the second she opened the door. While last Friday she may have been hurt, this Friday she looked pissed off. She'd had all week to stew over your pathetic attempts at committing to her, at vocalising your feelings, and at hiding behind the lust. Of course she was angry, you would have been too if the roles were reversed, but with that look in her eyes, you just didn't know how things were going to turn out.

Your words might not be enough, you realised, following her up the stairs to her room.

Quinn took a seat on the bed, watching you as you went to lean against her desk. You needed to keep the distance between the two of you, because kissing her would be a mistake. The two of you needed to talk, you needed to clear the air. Kissing her wouldn't solve anything.

"You wanted to talk, so talk," Quinn began, waving her hand for you to start.

Right, you had to get the ball rolling. Christ, you wished you'd rehearsed what you were going to say, you wished she wasn't looking at you with cold, dead eyes, and you wished you had more words.

"There was an error in my judgement," you began, frowning at your hands in your lap. An error, indeed. You had seriously miscalculated her feelings towards you, and now you were paying the price.

**Twenty seven.**

Like a dormant volcano erupting after years, Quinn exploded in anger at hearing your words, burning you into ashes with her deadly glare.

"An error in your judgement, are you fucking kidding me, Santana? There wasn't an error in judgement! You didn't want me, and then when you did, you lied about it. I asked and you lied to me! You cared about me, you wanted more; I could see it in your eyes. Only I was too foolish to do anything about it. I was scared you'd reject me, that you'd throw me away like trash, the same way you discarded your feelings for me. An error in judgement," she scoffed, shaking her head.

"Don't you know what you mean to me? I've been trying to make it clear since that night. I didn't mean for those words to slip out so carelessly, but I meant them all the same. I love you. I do, and I hate that I do because you're so closed off, but when I look at you, I know you feel the same way." She was on a roll, letting everything out while you stood unmoving, taking it all in.

She loved you. Fucking hell, she loved you. It was music to your ears, trumpets and horns playing at the gates of heaven.

"I want us to give this a go, see where it takes us," she confessed, dropping her eyes to the bedspread beneath her. You were elated at the very thought.

"God, Quinn, you have no idea…" you whispered, scared to break the spell taking over the room but desperate to tell her how much you wanted that, too. "I've been so cruel to you." Like she'd already told you, you'd toyed with her emotions without even realising. As much as you were suffering, so was she.

**Thirty nine.**

"I love you, and I want to be with you. I want this to be more than sex, and I know you do, too," Quinn added, crawling to the end of the bed. "I can't be out and open about it but I want you. I want us. It's not perfect, but it's all I can give. I need to know if you're in or not, because I can't do this with you anymore, San. I can't pretend your kisses mean nothing and that I don't get butterflies every time you approach me. I can't do it. So I need to know. I need to know how you feel about me."

You thought it was obvious, you thought you had made it clear how much you loved her. That had you frowning. How did she not know that you were hopelessly in love with her?

"Please, say something, say it. Please, Santana," Quinn begged, taking a step towards you. Your silence had freaked her and you shook your head to control your racing heart. Your brain was still replaying her words, and you licked your lips to ask something she had mentioned. Maybe you'd heard her wrong.

"You'd want us to be a secret?"

**Forty six. **

For some reason, that thought felt like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you.

"I can't come out, I can't," Quinn repeated, her eyes begging you to listen to her reasoning. "Do you know what would happen to me if I did? I'd be crucified, Santana. You can't ask that of me. I won't do it. I want to be with you, but that doesn't mean we need to share it with everyone. Why can't it just be us? You've not had a problem keeping our weekly activities a secret, why does that have to change? I can't let people know."

You shouldn't have been surprised, but the whine from the back of your throat said otherwise. Of course she wasn't going to come out, you knew this. You knew the fallen angel would pick her religion, her devotion to God, over her love for you. Yes, she wasn't picking one over the other, but you'd lived in that damn closet for years feeling shameful and dirty for loving who you loved, and you didn't want to go back in it.

"Quinn," you whimpered, shaking your head back and forth. She was asking so much of you. Why? Why wasn't your love enough? Why wasn't she willing to face the adversity with her hand in yours? Did she not know you'd be with her every step of the way?

**Forty seven. **

"Santana, please, don't ask me to do that. Don't, because I won't. I can't come out," she stressed, her eyes becoming wild and her hair ruffling with each sweep of her hand through it. "I love you, why isn't that enough?" she whispered, stepping closer to you. "I forgive you for being scared. I know you didn't want to be rejected, but I'm not going to do that. I love you."

Love didn't feel like enough, though.

"Do you love me?" she asked, and God, you could feel your heart breaking at the sight of her. This was it. She needed her answers; she needed to know where you stood.

You were going to lose her. You knew it, you could feel it, and the longer it took you to reply, the more she could feel it, too.

You loved her, you adored her, but she was asking you to hide who you were, who she was to you, and you couldn't do that. Brittany had begged you to come out and be proud, and you were, you were finally proud and accepted yourself. Why was Quinn asking you to destroy that?

"Answer me, S, please," she was begging you again, with her words and her eyes this time. She needed you to put her out of her misery, to define this. "I need you to say it. I know you feel it, but if you can't say it then I can't do this. Three little words, San, that's all I want. Just three words."

You fucking asshole, you told her she wouldn't regret talking to you tonight, and from the look in her eyes, she regretted ever falling into bed with you. You had messed up. You had ignored her need to be seen as perfect until it was too late, and now she was pleading you to love her, but you couldn't tell her.

How could you tell her you loved her and then pretend she was nothing more than a friend on Monday? That wasn't love, that was cruelty. You finally understood how Brittany had been feeling, and it broke your heart further to know this was the pain you kept putting her through. Of course you'd get a taste of your own medicine, the world was just that fucking cruel.

Still, Quinn waited, more tears cascading down her cheeks with each tick of the clock. You were practically torturing the girl, cowardly holding off from saying anything until you knew what to say.

You may have been a coward, but you weren't the only one in the room. Quinn was an even bigger coward for knowing you felt something for her and ignoring it because it didn't fit into her perfect Christian lifestyle. She was a coward for hiding in the closet, pretending to be the perfect little angel while sullying it up with Satan.

Could you hide away? Could you be her dirty little secret?

No.

"I can't," you sobbed, shaking your head.

**Forty nine. **

You wanted to, you wished you could. You wanted to tell her you loved her a million times over and then say it a million more. You needed her to hear those three little words. You hated yourself, so fucking much, because it was too late. You'd gone and lost her, and the tears streaming down your cheeks said it all.

"Oh God…" she cried, fighting back more tears from falling. "Why? Why?!" She was looking at you with such desperation, it broke the dam and had you sobbing into your hands uncontrollably. You were destroying the girl you loved, the one you swore never to hurt, the one you promised not to break.

This was why you weren't going to get involved with her. You were only going to hurt her. She was the fucking fallen angel. How could you, Satan, even think you stood a chance with her? So fucking dumb. And now you'd hurt her, you fucking twat.

"Sorry," you whispered, leaning in as quickly as possible and kissing her lips softly. You pulled back before she had a chance to push you away, and you left. You were out the door and heading down the stairs when you heard her break out into bone chilling sobs.

**Fifty.**

You'd lost her. There was nothing more to it. You couldn't hide who you were, and she couldn't accept who she was.

It was doomed from the beginning.

*0*0*

You spent the weekend at the bottom of a bottle, hidden under your covers, tears leaking out every time you inhaled the lingering scent of Quinn left on the sheet. Your poor understanding of hell on earth had changed, and now you were an expert on what that meant. You were living it.

She had been there, right before you, telling you she loved you, and you had rejected her. Whatever ill fate was headed your way, you deserved it. Only after you had left, after you had tried to drink your weight in shots, did you realise you had tried to force her out the closet.

Quinn, _Quinn Fabray_, loved you and needed you to support her. She had admitted to loving you, a huge step in the right direction, and she probably needed time. Your coming out wasn't smooth, thanks to Hudson, but hers would no doubt be much worse.

The pregnancy didn't reflect good on her persons, but her church bought the peer pressure and misguidance of a Jewish boy corrupting their perfect angel. She was accepted back in their fold like nothing had happened. Coming out as gay, being in love with a girl, however, would get her thrown out for good.

The people who she'd spent her whole life around would kick her to the dirt, cast her to hell and call for God to strike her down where she stood. Your abuela walked away from you, but Quinn stood to lose everyone; her whole family, her congregation, her life.

You'd messed up. You'd pushed when you should have pulled. You'd lost the girl of your dreams because you were selfish and cowardly. You could have waited, you could have told her you loved her and stood by her side as she made the decision to eventually come out.

Instead, you were selfish and thought only of yourself. You didn't deserve her. You couldn't sink lower in your estimation of yourself even if you tried. You had disregarded how hard things would be for her, and now you were paying the price.

Sobering up meant returning to school, and returning to school meant facing her sweet angelic face once more. It took all you had not to burst into tears when you saw her cold and stoic expression, skittering over you like a speck of dirt she didn't want to draw attention to.

It took you four days to get the courage to approach her, and even then you were still unsure whether you'd make it away with your life. If you didn't, it wouldn't be a loss, because she didn't care for you, and you certainly held no value in yourself. How could you? You were a monster.

"I need to talk to you," you whispered, ambushing her in the library.

**Nine.**

She wasn't even taken aback by your presence, but instead, grew angry as if you were a simple fly bothering her. She waved her hand at you, shooing you backwards and grabbed the book she needed from the shelves.

"No, you had your chance to talk, you said everything that needed saying, so we're done." Her voice was like ice, freezing you to the bone.

"Please," you begged, needed to apologise. "I want this, I want you. We can hide it and be together-" shooting you her coldest glare yet, she cut you off with a sharp head shake.

**Twenty three. **

"No. Now leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you."

"Quinn, you don't understand. I was scared! I couldn't-"Jesus, you need to stop and shut the fuck up. You're wasting so many words! Stop it!

**Thirty two.**

"You never can, San." She frowned at the nickname that slipped past her lips and shook her head. "Stop this, okay? I'm done. We're done. Hell, we never were anything anyway, so it shouldn't matter."

"That's not true, and you know it. We were something. You love me, Quinn, you do. And I-"

**Fifty. **

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No! No! This wasn't fair! You were so fucking close! Come on!

"You what, Santana?" Her eyes were distant but there was a small flame of hope lingering in the back. Hope; she was hopeful, despite everything you'd done to her, and once again you'd gone and let her down.

Whimpering, you feel the tears welling up in your eyes and you silently pleaded with her to see how badly you loved her, how much you need her, and how sorry you were for rejecting her. She wasn't seeing it, however. Instead, she was growing bored, the hope in her eyes dying as she waited for your answer, and you couldn't fucking give her one.

Fucking asshole, you were such a fucking asshole. You hated yourself. You hated yourself so fucking much.

Dropping your head, you admitted defeat, and felt the hot tears break free down your cheeks. Quinn watched you before laughing humourlessly, shaking her head.

"That's what I fucking thought. Stay the hell away from me." She stormed away, not once looking back as your heart broke once more in the religion section of the library.

*0*0*

Another week went by, and still there was no contact from Quinn. You had tried again to approach her, but she had sent you away with your tail between your legs like a feared animal. She wasn't putting up with you, even your mere presence seemed too much for her to handle.

It hurt, but you deserved it, because it was all your own doing.

With each passing day, your heart grew heavier, and you lost all semblance of what normal was. Everything felt dead to you. You were alone, wordless, and pinning after a girl who's heart you had torn so carelessly to shreds.

You wanted to explain. You wanted Quinn to know that you were going to tell her. You were. In the library, you were going to tell her you loved her. You were going to fix the mess you'd made. But you couldn't. Your words had cut you off, and that wasn't your fault. You had no control over it. You couldn't force more words to fall from your lips, nor could you take back the ones that slipped out by accident.

That conversation had spiralled, and you wished you'd controlled yourself more. Maybe then you would have been able to tell her. Maybe then you wouldn't be falling to pieces without her.

Tomorrow, you needed to change things. You needed to tell her the truth.

She needed to know that you only had fifty words per day.

Once she bought that, you'd tell her how you felt. But first, she needed to know about your lack of words. If she couldn't or wouldn't believe that, then this was a lost cause. You didn't know when you'd get your words back, or if this was you for the rest of your life. You needed her to understand, to accept this, to accept you and your words. Because if she knew how precious they were, she would know how much you loved her when you finally told her.

First, though, you needed her to believe that you did in fact only have fifty words per day. Only after that could you tell her how you really felt . You loved her wholeheartedly and you hoped she would still love you by the time that moment arrived. You could only hope and pray, because while you have a limit of fifty words, she didn't. Your words would get the ball rolling, and her words would decide your fate.

You loved her, you had lost her, and now you needed her back. You should have told her when you had the chance, you should have accepted her for who she was, and now you needed her to do the same to you. If she even felt one fifth of what you felt for her, she would. She'd accept your words and the truth, and let you love her like you should have been doing weeks ago.

That was the dream; acceptance.

You had now accepted her, her need for secrets and security, so surely she could accept you and your Fifty Words problem, right?

One could only hope.

*0*0*

_This is going to sound fucking crazy, but I want you to hear me out with an open mind._

_Imagine if you could only use a limited number of words a day. Let's say it's fifty words. You get fifty words a day, and after that you get no more. You can't say anything after fifty, no matter how hard you try._

_By the end of this sentence, I will have used eighty-one words, and yet I haven't really said anything. That's the problem. You have to make those words count, but fifty is such a small number, and you want to say so much more. _

_Fifty words, Q, and then I can't say a damn thing. Now whether you buy this or not, I don't care, cause it won't change anything. I'll still only get fifty words tomorrow. This doesn't change the fact that I'll see you in the hallway, and I'll have ten words left, and I'll say them all to you. _

_You get my words. You get all fifty words. _

_My silence isn't a joke, and I'm not scheming, despite what everyone thinks. I don't want to waste my words, because they belong to you. Why would I waste them on small talk and all that crap when I could be using them to tell you that you look fucking gorgeous today? Which you do, by the way. _

_What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't take my silence as rejection. It's anything but. And yeah, I could have just written down how I was feeling and what I want for us, but I want to say it. I want to use those fifty words to let you know how I feel about you. _

_So, tomorrow, when I see you, I'll have fifty words to play with, and I'm going to make them count. _

_P.S. This is 328 words long. It would have taken me 8 days to tell you all this in person. _

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	11. Chapter 11: Bittersweet

A.N. – This chapter and I did not get along very well. I'm still slightly iffy about it. Your thoughts would be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading.

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Fifty Words for Forgiveness

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Bittersweet

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Your ass was doomed.

Sitting in the front of Rachel's car, while waiting as she said goodbye to her dads, you sighed. The two of you were heading over to Brittany's house for her Glee Girls Sleepover, and you couldn't be dreading it more. Nothing about the upcoming evening screamed 'fun!'.

For starters, you were hiding in Rachel's car. Yes, it was parked in her driveway, right outside her house, but her fathers had no idea you were there, and according to Rach, it was probably better they didn't. Apparently, they didn't find her moment of delinquency earlier in the week appropriate, and if it had been any other occasion, she would have been grounded. Given that you were her partner in crime, and your history with the girl, they weren't your biggest fans. In all honesty, you were positive Rachel had saved you from being skinned alive when she told you to duck down in the passenger seat.

Moreover, if that was not enough to worry about, imminent death by your best friend's parents, you had to try and think of an inspiring speech to give Lord Tubbington.

You had promised Brittany that you would give Lord T a talking to once he returned from rehab, and this whole sleepover was built around his return. There was no way you could back out, nor would you want to. Brittany was relying on your words to keep her cat on the straight and narrow. Why she thought you had the words of wisdom needed for that little ecstasy addict, you didn't know, but you were still stuck between a rock and a hard place. There really was no other option but to think of something inspirational.

Then, once that was taken care of, you were actually going to have to spend the evening surrounded by the glee girls, including Kurt. Whoop-de-fucking-doo, because they were your favourite people. If it had just been Britt, Rach and yourself, everything would have been fucking grand, but no. Instead, you had to share the air with Mercedes, Kurt, Tina, and Quinn.

_Quinn. _

She'd been giving you whiplash with her mood swings all week. Her questioning on Monday suggested she believed you about fifty words, but her actions on Tuesday implied she was angry with you. Wednesday turned out to be no better, her eyes cold and dark, watching you all day, glaring. Yesterday, she had been more reserved with her looks, and instead just looked wounded. You had done that, somehow. So today, you assumed she would either be prissy with you, or ignore your presence entirely.

Both sucked.

You just needed her to come around, show a little more acceptance towards fifty words, and then you would be able to take the next step. She had to stop being angry at you for your lack of speech, because that wasn't anything you could control. If things had gone the way you wanted them to, you would have confessed your true feelings for her long ago.

Alas, you were now stuck in limbo.

Against your better judgement, you sent a silent prayer begging that you'd make it through the evening ahead unscathed. Your heart could only take so many beatings from that blonde before it gave in, gave up, and gave out.

Hearing the slam of a door, you looked up from behind the dashboard and watched Rachel run towards the car, bags in hand. She threw them in the back before jumping in the front. Quickly, you sat up and put your seatbelt on, knowing damn well that she wouldn't even start the car if everyone wasn't buckled in correctly.

"My dads' think you're the devil," she derided, shaking her head vehemently.

"I am," you added, frowning in confusion. As much as you hated to think it, you very much felt like Satan.

**Four.**

"Stop that!" Rachel cried, horror marring her features as she smacked your arm. "Don't waste your words, you've been doing so good today!" Straightening herself out, she checked her mirrors before putting the car in reverse and easing out her driveway. "Plus, you are not the devil. They're overreacting, and they only used that word because they think you've tricked me into 'sinning'. Honestly, I think they're trying to make me feel guilty because I haven't taken an interest in the bible studies classes they've been attending. And before you say anything, because I can just see you waiting to question me, my Jewish daddy goes along because he doesn't want my Christian daddy to think he doesn't care about his religion. It's all very political."

You bit back a laugh as she rolled her eyes, and grabbed your phone. She had found an awesome app for you that read out any input text, and the two of you had been using it when scribbling on paper became too much for her poor conscious to handle. Seemingly, she was being haunted by trees, crying at her feet, weeping pieces of paper, every night for the last week.

"_Regardless, I'm a bad influence. How much trouble are you in?" _the monotone voice asked, as you held your phone up for her to hear. She had already turned off the music in the car, pre-empting this.

"You're not a bad influence. If anything, I'm a bad influence on you. It was _me_ who begged _you_ to skip, if I remember correctly, which I do. Plus, I'm not in that much trouble. Really, it's not that bad. I actually think my daddy is proud of me. Dad, on the other hand, is upset I would sink to such lows. But please, they can't expect perfection twenty-four-seven. Even Angel's fall from grace," she replied, waving her hand dismissively at their comments.

While her remark was meant to ease your worries, instead it brought a whole new set up. The two of you were driving closer and closer to your very own fallen angel. God, could you even refer to her as yours anymore? Surely she'd made it clear she wasn't your anything.

"Whoa, what is that face for? What did I do?" Rachel asked, worrying seeping into each word.

"_Nothing,"_ the phone recited.

"Come on, don't lie to me. I found that app so you could explain your feelings in more than one word, at least have the courtesy to use it properly. What's going on in that head of yours?"

Rolling your eyes at her persistence, you started typing out a longer reply to appease her. The two of you needed to be on the same page for tonight. She was going to keep your grounded, stop you from doing anything stupid, and safe guard your heart tonight, whether she knew it or not.

"_I'm just not looking forward to spending an evening with Quinn. I can only do wrong when it comes to her. We're not ready for this, yet. We need more time." _Listening to the phone recite your words, Rachel nodded and mashed her lips together in thought.

"Nothing needs to happen tonight, San. Just keep your distance. Quinn is curious about what's going on, so she might actually have questions, and that can only be encouraged. But, remember, I have your back. Any tricky situation you need help getting out of, I'm there. I'll be your buffer, if you need me to be."

Shooting Rachel a thankful smile, your worries were eased slightly. She was on the same page as you, without you having to ask, which helped. It still hadn't filled you with confidence for later, but how could it? The situation was too unpredictable to make any assumptions, especially with Britt running the show.

Sinking back into the seat, trying to get a little comfier, you put the radio back on and the two of you drove in silence the rest of the way. Thankfully, Rachel knew you needed the downtime to put your thoughts in order. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, tonight was a big night.

You could either take another step closer to reconciling with Quinn, or you could shoot yourself in the foot and lose any chance you ever had. No pressure or anything.

Pulling up outside Brittany's house, Rachel turned the car off and spun in her seat to look at you. You waited, knowing she had some words of wisdom to share before the two of you were to make your grand entrance.

"Try and relax. This is meant to be an enjoyable night, and honestly, I'm looking forward to it. I'm hardly ever invited to these sorts of things, especially the ones with you and Brittany present. So can we maybe try and have a good time, please?"

"Definitely," you replied, a tinge of guilt hitting you. You fought it off with a warm smile her way and gave her hand a squeeze before exiting the car. Rachel followed suit, grabbing the bags as she did so, and the beaming smile on her face told you that she wasn't holding your past against you.

**Five.**

You'd do whatever Rachel needed of you to ensure she had a good time. You owed her that at least.

The two of you stood on the doorstep as you rang the doorbell and waited patiently for it to open. You could hear Brittany calling to the door, saying she was on her way, and then heard the jingling of the lock as she worked to open it.

"Hey guys! You two are the last ones to arrive, so the gang is all here. Come on in!" she said, smiling brightly at the two of you. "The others are in the den. San, do you mind taking the stuff upstairs while I take Rach through?"

You waved your hand, to tell them to head on in, and accepted the bags before heading for the stairs. Given how familiar you were with the house, it didn't take long for you to dump your things with the other bags at the bottom of Brittany's bed, and then make your way back towards the den.

Brittany stopped you in the hallway, before you could see the other girls, however. She was smiling at you in her usual giddy manner as she dragged you to the study at the back of the house. You were frowning in confusion, waiting on some kind of explanation, which she was quick to give.

"Lord Tubbington's in here resting," she began. "I didn't want him to run out of energy before the festivities really started. There's a big night ahead, after all. I made cake, and brownies! I even made vegan ones for Rachey to eat!"

You knew you'd need to warn Rachel not to eat the brownies. Knowing Brittany like you did, that was not something that would go down well, and you were not in the mood to deal with that mess tonight.

Stopping outside the study door, she dropped your hand and fished the key from out of her pocket before unlocking it. She made no move to open the door, though. Instead, she handed you the key and pointed towards it.

"He might be a little grumpy because I locked him in, but once he sees you, he'll relax. I wanted to leave it as a surprise. Just say what you can. I'm sure he'll appreciate it as much as I do." Leaping forward, she gave you a tight hug and then pushed you towards the door, leaving you no option but to open it and head inside.

The only plus to this situation, you noted, was that you wouldn't have an audience. Unfortunately, being trapped alone in a room with Lord Tubbington outweighed that pro tenfold. That little shithead was a violent motherfucker when he wanted to be. Just because he was big didn't mean he was slow. No. Have you ever been hit by a thirty-pound cat? It fucking hurts.

Thankfully, his size usually meant you could find him, but glancing round the room, you had no such luck. He wasn't loitering on the desk, or the desk chair. Nor was he rolled out on the floor anywhere. Crossing the room, you kept an eye out for him, just waiting patiently for the sneak attack. Maybe Brittany had been wrong, maybe she hadn't locked him in here.

Dropping onto the couch by the window, you sunk back into the cushions and sighed. Where the fuck was he? Was Britt pulling your leg? Had the bugger slipped out an open window or something? Yeah, Santana, slipped out. He's bigger than a fucking tire but he can slip out a crack in a window. Fucking genius you are.

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms and kicked your legs up onto the remainder of the couch. That's' when he struck. There was nothing you could do. It all happened in slow motion. One minute you were lounging on the couch, the next you were watching what appeared to be a cushion flying towards you from the top shelf of the bookcase. How the fuck he got up there, you'd never know.

There wasn't any time to prepare. There was no time to move. He hit you like a fucking battering ram. His shitty claws landed in your thighs, and his hissing and devil noises had you freaking out enough to try and push him off you. Landing with a thud on the floor, Lord Tubbington continued his verbal assault as you assessed your broken legs.

You weren't moving. You were incapable of moving. He'd kneecapped you. Fucking ninja cat had destroyed your legs. Biting back the slew of insults waiting to burst out, you growled and shook your head. You couldn't afford to waste your words. You just couldn't afford to waste them.

Brittany owed you her firstborn for this fuckery.

And really, if this was what Lord Tubbington was like off ecstasy you'd become his own personal dealer just to turn him back into the fat rump of a cat that never moved. It mellowed him the fuck out, so what was Brittany's problem?

It took a few moments, but Lord T eventually chilled the fuck out. He slunk himself towards the desk and somehow managed to heave himself up onto the chair. You watched carefully, just to make sure he wasn't going to try something, before stretching your legs out with a groan. You were now bruised and bloodied, and you had nothing to show for it. The little shithead still needed a talking to.

Realising that this was going to be harder than you first thought, especially given you'd left your phone upstairs, you pursed your lips and rose from the couch. Brittany had always said Lord Tubbington could read, and given how you were not wasting your precious words on that bugger, he was going to have to read your _inspirational_ speech.

Scoffing to yourself, you approached the desk slowly, eyeing him like a lion waiting to attack. Thankfully, he seemed uninterested in you, allowing you to grab a pen and some paper. You really didn't know what to say, it was a cat after all, but you gave it your best shot.

You were out of your fucking mind to be doing this, but fifty words was proof of that already.

Placing the piece of paper on the desk, hoping to get it in Lord Tubbington's eye line, you noted it wasn't. Sighing, you moved round the desk and decided to just go for it, biting the bullet before you got shot. As fast as possible, you grabbed Lord T and picked him up, only to drop his fat ass on the desk next to your message. He was looking at you like you were a peasant, but you had no time for his judging eyes.

Tapping the note with your index finger, his eyes followed the movement and he honed in on it.

_Read this! _

_I'm delusional to think you will, but apparently you can, so you better fucking do it, Lord T. I'm not kidding around. This is important! Britt is worried about your drug-addicted ass, so you need to stop messing around. How many times do you want to go to rehab? How many times do you want to make her cry, huh? _

_You've got another chance. She's trusting you. Don't let her down, Lord T. We all have faith in you. And if you dare attack me again, I'll go Lima Heights on your ass and make you into a throw cushion. That also applies if you hurt Britt-Britt again. Got it? _

Why you had ended the note with a question was beyond you. It wasn't like he was going to be able to answer the damn thing. Alas, you'd done all you could, and you really didn't want to spend any more time with him. Giving him a salute goodbye, you slowly backed away from the desk, never taking your eyes off him in case he went for a sneak attack, and opened the door to leave.

Hopefully that was enough for Brittany. You'd tried, that's all she had asked of you.

Locking the door behind you, in case he tried to escape and get revenge for your manhandling of him, you dropped your head against the wood and took a deep breath. No way were you letting him out. Swallowing the key sounded like the best idea ever. He was never leaving. You'd need to convince Brittany to keep him in there for good, or at least until you left.

"What are you doing?" a voice asked, freezing you in place. You knew that voice far too well, far too intimately, and it was far too close to you for your brain to even think about functioning correctly.

Turning, you found Quinn, only a few feet away, smiling at you bemusedly. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you dropped your head, biting your bottom lip as you did so. She chuckled and took a step closer, biting her lip in turn.

Good lord, where the fuck was everyone else?

You hadn't wanted to be alone with this girl. She was dangerous. Those eyes, those eyes were like an atomic bomb to you. She was going to decimate everything in your very soul, leaving you useless for years to come. Those goddamn hazel eyes.

"I'm glad I found you," she whispered, as if confessing a secret. You raised your eyebrows in question, as if doubting her words, and she nodded. "Yeah, I _really_ am glad I found you. I wanted to talk," she admitted, taking a step closer.

You were standing on one side of the door frame with her on the other, the positions reminiscent of how you'd both lean against lockers at school. Like then, there was barely any space between you, or so it felt like it. She was too close; you weren't ready for this.

"I was thinking that we could maybe speak in private, sometime tonight. We need to clear the air and…" she paused, chewing her bottom lip incessantly and without thinking twice, you raised your hand and cupped the side of her face, pulling her lip away from harm.

Only after did you realise what you'd just done, and the shock set in. You dropped your arm like it had been burnt, and took a step backwards, shaking your head in apology, willing the words to stay in your mouth. You couldn't apologise verbally, because there was so much you needed to apologise for.

"It's okay, it's okay," Quinn said, shaking her head as well. "Relax, S. It's fine."

It wasn't. It wasn't fine at all. You weren't meant to do that. That was an intimate action two lovers would share, not whatever the hell you two were. You couldn't entertain thoughts like that, not when you didn't know where things stood.

She wanted to talk, she didn't specify what about. For all you knew, she could want to be just friends with you. She could tell you she's accepted fifty words but that she's not forgiven you for rejecting her so. She could tell you to go to fucking hell. You had no idea.

"I didn't mind you…doing that, so don't worry about it. I mean, it's nothing you haven't done before, and old habits die hard, I guess," she babbled, shrugging her shoulders at you, oblivious to your mental freak out.

Nodding, you went to ask her what exactly she wanted to talk about, and preferably when, but the approaching footsteps had you closing your mouth. There was no point asking a question when you were only going to be interrupted.

"San, are you done yet?" Rachel's voice rang out, coming down the hall. She was looking at something in her hand, having not looked up while she continued speaking. "Brittany said you were talking to Lord Tubbington, and I was hoping you were finished, because we're talking about watching a movie or…oh."

Pausing at the end of the hall, Rachel froze, her eyes falling on Quinn and then on you. You could see that she didn't know what to do next. Had she just interrupted something important? Had she done you a favour? Did you need her to leave? Did you need her to rescue you?

Wiping down her skirt, she took a few steps back, still in sight but far enough away to stay out of whatever conversation was taking place. You sent her a thankful nod, hoping she knew that you wanted her to stay just there, and turned back to Quinn.

What you saw was confusing, but in some regards, it made perfect sense. It certainly explained some of Quinn's recent behaviour towards the brunette at the end of the hall.

"You're jealous." It wasn't a question, you could see the answer in her eyes so there was no need to ask. Your words broke Quinn's glare on Rachel, and she looked back at you.

**Seven.**

"Do I have a reason to be?" She glanced Rachel's way again, judging her where she stood.

"Depends," you replied, shrugging one shoulder. Quinn's eyes inflamed with your response, her gaze shooting back to yours quickly and stopping you dead. She was completely misunderstanding you.

**Eight.**

"I see," she remarked, but she really didn't.

She could only be jealous of Rachel if she wished to be your best friend, because Rachel was nothing more than that. She never would be anything more than that. Hell, she only took that position because Quinn couldn't stand to stay yours.

"Perhaps we shouldn't talk, then," Quinn said shortly, standing up straighter as she did so. "I get the picture."

"No-" you started, shaking you head at her and reaching out for her wrist.

**Nine.**

"Don't, Santana. Just don't. I get it. Let's leave it at that." There was nothing more you could say as she walked away, passing Rachel as if she was a speck of dirt on the floor.

Sighing, you dropped back against the study door and ran your hands over your face and into your hair. It was misunderstanding after misunderstanding with the two of you, always. Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before the situation grew too volatile and one of you lashed out. You'd either blow and fire your words at her, or she'd admit defeat and walk away from you for good.

"Want to talk about it?" Rachel joked, cracking a nervous smile. You chuckled under breath and shook your head. There was no point. It would be a waste of words, as well as be a burden Rachel didn't need. Tonight was about her having fun.

Content with your response, she hummed in understanding and leant against the wall next to you. After a few seconds, she handed you your phone with a smile, one you returned, and then went back to staring aimlessly off. No doubt she was waiting for you to recompose yourself before making your way back to the group.

"I think Lord Tubbington is deaf," she announced out of the blue moments later. You shot her your 'what the fuck?' look, and she quickly backtracked for you. "It makes sense. Brittany says that she talks to him, but he never listens. She pours her heart out to him, and yet still, he reads her diary. Why? Maybe he can't hear her, but longs to understand what she's saying. I really do think he's deaf. It would make perfect sense. He never comes when he's called on. He doesn't respond to any verbal commands, only written ones. He's very much deaf. Okay, okay, I'm not losing it, I promise. Please stop looking at me like that."

"_Did Brittany give you a brownie?"_ the monotone voice from your phone asked. Half way through her babbling you knew you'd have to check. It didn't seem likely that the affects would have kicked in if she had eaten one, but with her fast metabolism and small body weight, god only knows what would happen.

"What? No. Why? Should I have one?" Rachel asked, frowning at the peculiar question.

"_Fuck, no." _You shook your head to reaffirm your point, but were only met with her confused look. She shrugged off your concern and ignored you, meaning you were going to have to watch her carefully later.

"Anyway, Lord Tubbington is deaf, I'm sure of it. So, I'm sorry to say, your words were wasted on him."

"_I wrote it down for him," _the phone recited, earning a bright smile from Rachel as she bounced in excitement next to you.

"Aww, really?! It's just like you knew! Oh my God, maybe you did! Maybe I telepathically sent you a message! How amazing would that be?" She was practically giddy at the thought, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

Fifty words, you could accept. Her psychic abilities, you could accept. Her being telepathic, not a chance.

"_Amazing." _Rachel shot you an unimpressed look and crossed her arms over her chest.

"The phone may have said that, but I can still tell when you're being sarcastic and I do not appreciate the sass. Now, come on, Britt's asking after you." She was done with you, and wandered off back through the house, leaving you no option but to follow after her and see what was going on.

Arriving in the kitchen, you found everyone else and waved your hellos. Rachel had already informed them that your throat was still in a bad way and you were unlikely to be talking much. They didn't question it, much to your relief.

You tried to catch Quinn's eye again, just to see if she would even acknowledge you but it was a lost cause. She glanced away quickly and struck up conversation with Mercedes, one you were definitely not going to get involved in; not that you could, anyway.

Rachel made up for her sour mood, however, and had you smiling at her ramblings to Kurt about which musical was ideal to set the theme of the evening. Brittany was looking at them like they were talking another language, and Tina didn't look pleased with the prospect of sitting through two and half hours of signing.

Their discussion was quickly shut down, however, when Brittany informed them that it was tradition to watch a Disney movie. That, of course, led the two of them to go and look at the collection so they could make the best pick. One would think they were planning to invade a small country, the way they were going on about how it should be approached, length of time needed, ample amount of supplies necessary, and if everyone could come to an agreement that met everyone's needs.

Heading into the living room, everyone gathered around the cupboard containing the films. Britt had the best Disney collection you'd ever seen, and you knew that this conversation was going to take a while, so hung back by the door and waited it out.

They were working on compromising, and also what defined a 'true' Disney movie. Did Pixar count? Or did it need to be a Walt Disney classic? Could they have one with singing? What one had the best musical score? What one had the best known songs so those that wished to sing could?

Rachel was in the midst of it all, and you shot her a smile when she looked round for you. She seemed to be enjoying herself, and for that you were pleased. You didn't want to have to go all Lima Heights on their asses for ruining what was probably one of her few sleepover experiences.

"Okay, you guys decide, and San and I will get the snacks!" Brittany called, having enough of the indecision. She smiled brightly at you and began to leave, only to stop and turn back. "Oh, and if you could make sure you don't get blood on the carpet, that would be great. It's so hard to wash out."

Quinn was the only one to crack a smile, knowing that Britt was fucking with them, and you watched her drop into the armchair for a prime view of the impending debate. Brittany was giggling to herself as she left everyone's shocked faces behind, with Kurt looking at the rug as if it was contaminated. You followed her, chuckling under your breath and shaking your head. It took a while for most people to work out Britt's sense of humour, but you loved it.

Sadly, your laughter died in your throat at Brittany's next words.

"I think you should talk with Quinn," she whispered, moving past you to grab bowls from the cupboard.

You froze, unsure where her words had come from and shook your head at her. She wasn't paying attention, and was emptying food into the bowls, oblivious to you.

_I can't, my words, _you scribbled, sliding the note in front of her to read.

You would have used your phone but you didn't want the others to possibly overhear this conversation, which was also why you didn't want to talk with Quinn. Having that type of conversation via a note or using some stupid monotone voice app was not what you had in mind. Brittany wasn't fazed by what you wrote, however, and she actually grinned at you instead.

"That's why you should have Rachel there. She can talk for you. She knows enough about what happened between you and Quinn to fix things. Let her ask the questions you need answers to, and it'll help."

_No, no way, B. Quinn will kill Rachel. She'll kill me! _

"She won't kill you, silly. Maybe Rach, at a push, but I'm sure it won't come to that." Shaking your head, you tried to let Brittany know just how against this idea you were, but she was ignoring you. Humming to herself, she grabbed the bowls of food and pranced out the kitchen like nothing had happened.

She was going to trap you, you just knew it.

One movie later, they finally settled on Beauty & the Beast, and yep, Brittany had set a plan in motion. Conveniently, she wanted to show Kurt, Mercedes and Tina her motocross equipment. They were too polite to turn her down, and she insisted that Rachel, Quinn and yourself, who had all seen it before, stay put.

Watching the backs of them head out of the living room and towards the back of the house, you realised you had underestimated Brittany severely. You really hadn't thought she'd manage to get you all in the same room together, let alone without anyone else present.

Goddammit, Brittany, this was not going to help. If anything, this was going to resort in one dead body, and Christ knows you were not going to be the only one left cleaning up that mess. She had been warned, this was all on her.

Glancing round, you noted the same 'what the fuck do we do now?' look on Rachel's face as your own, and looked to Quinn. She was glaring at Rachel, and then her eyes met yours, the glare changing into a frown. No doubt she thought you'd set this up. As if. This was one of your worst nightmares.

"I think I'm going to get a drink of water," Rachel said, rising to her feet, trying to escape. You weren't having any of that, though, and quickly grabbed her sleeve and tugged her back onto the couch with you. "Or maybe I'm not," she muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Quinn was watching the two of you carefully, almost as if she was looking for signs of more. She wouldn't find any, you were only friends with Rachel, but from your earlier discussion, there was no way Quinn would believe that.

It was ridiculous, really.

If it hadn't been for Quinn, you never would have made amends with Rachel, and you certainly wouldn't have become her friend. She had wanted you to earn your forgiveness, to repent for the sins you had committed, and you had. You had begged and pleaded, and it had worked out for you. So why she was so angry about that, you didn't know. You had only done what she had told you to do.

The only upside to her reaction, however, was that she clearly still cared about you. That was the only plausible explanation your brain was providing you with. She was jealous, she was angry, and she was hurt. All of those emotions made it easy for you to conclude that she still felt _something _for you.

You could only hope that it was what you felt for her. If she simply wanted to be friends again, it would break your heart all over again. But no, you were holding out on the idea that a part of her still loved you, that despite what you'd said and done, she still wanted to be with you, privately, at least.

Pulling out your phone, knowing the other two weren't going to do anything to resolve the tension in the room, you thought you'd get the ball rolling. Knowing Brittany like you did, she would probably not come back until she was sure things were patched up. The girl had some kind of power, you were sure of it.

"_We need to talk, otherwise Brittany will keep putting us in situations like this," _the phone rang out, attracting their attention. Rachel nodded in agreement with your words, but Quinn rolled her eyes.

"There's nothing to talk about. Everything that needs to be said has been," she argued, crossing her arms over her chest. You hated when she did that, steeling herself for what was next to come, protecting herself from you like you were going to hurt her.

"Actually, I don't think anything has been said-" Rachel began, hoping to patch things up. She was only trying to help, but in all honesty, she shouldn't have said anything.

"What do you know, Rachel? Huh?" Quinn barked, and you flinched at the venom being spat so viciously. "You know nothing about what's going on between Santana and I, so don't think-"

"In reality, Quinn, nothing _is_ going on between Santana and yourself. The two of you aren't even friends."

"And isn't that convenient for you?"

"I don't know what you mean by that," Rachel replied, shaking her head.

"Yeah, of course you don't."

"What you're implying is incorrect, Quinn." You nodded in agreement with Rach, and watched as Quinn shook her hair away from her face, catching your eye as she did so. "Santana and I are friends, nothing more."

"You don't need to justify yourselves to me. It's not my business." She was right, there. It wasn't her business. She had made sure it wasn't her business. So, when Rachel went to speak, you put your hand on hers to stop her. She eyed you curiously as you did so and shut her mouth, accepting your decision.

The next part was trickier. You didn't want to hurt her feelings, but you knew nothing would be achieved with her in the room. Pointing at the door, you motioned for her to give you some time. You could see her reluctance, but she did as you asked and sent you a smile on her way out the door.

Quinn was watching with disgust, anger flaring in those hazel eyes you loved so much. Jealously looked fucking good on her, but it was a fucking nightmare to deal with. Placing your phone down on the coffee table, you grabbed the notepad Britt had put out especially for you and wrote what needed to be said.

_Rachel's my best friend. You only have reason to be jealous if you wish to fill that position, but I was sort of hoping we were past that phase. _

She didn't take the note when you handed it to her, so you left it right in front of her on the coffee table for her to read. Whether she read it or not, you didn't know, you couldn't tell, but you'd tried. Things were getting messed up due to stupid misunderstandings, and at least you had tried to fix this one.

If you had your words, you knew things like this wouldn't be happening, and it pissed you off that you now had to fight extra hard to prove your feelings. But maybe this struggle was necessary, especially when it came to Quinn.

Together, the two of you sat in silence and waited on Rachel's return. She wasn't long, and her curious look had you shrugging in response. As if knowing, she pouted and dropped onto the couch next to you. Then the three of you were left waiting on Brittany and the others.

Thankfully, they didn't take long, but you knew from Brittany's face that she could sense nothing had been resolved. Her shoulders dropped in defeat and she patted your shoulder affectionately on her way over to sit next to Quinn. She had tried to help, and for that you shot her a smile, but it was pointless. Quinn wasn't willing to talk, and until she was, you knew nothing would change.

The others were oblivious to the slight turmoil taking place, and came back in carrying the cake and brownies Britt had made. This was then accompanied by wine coolers, and you just knew the next few hours were going to be a test physically and mentally.

You weren't worried about yourself, but rather about Rachel. You had never seen the girl drunk before, but given her weight and size, she was surely going to be past her limit on two wine coolers. On top of that, if she had a brownie you would be returning a very fucked up Rachel Berry to her fathers in the morning. That couldn't happen.

_You can drink, but no brownies, got me?_

Rachel nodded at your note, but still rolled her eyes. You could tell she was thankful you were watching out for her, but also that you didn't have to. Whatever, she was your friend and you wanted to make sure she wasn't getting herself into something deep. Those brownies could fucking waste her, given an hour or two.

Happy with her answer, you sunk back into the chair and pulled her closer, giving room for the others to settle down. The movie was out the way, and Kurt and Mercedes were already gossiping about someone, so it was only going to be a matter of time before someone mentioned games.

It only took another minute or so, and words 'Truth or Dare' were being thrown about. Grabbing a wine cooler, you set in for what was surely going to be an interesting watch, and shot the girl next to you a smile. She grinned back, and then dove off into the ground rules for the game.

This sleepover was turning out to be exactly what you needed it to be for her, thankfully.

*0*0*

Lying on your back, staring at the ceiling, you sighed.

Rachel was sound asleep next to you, and you were pleased she looked to have had a good time tonight, but your mind was still clogged. You wished things had been different. The evening had been good fun, a nice way to relax and take the edge off, but so much had happened with Quinn you didn't even know where to begin.

You wished tonight's events had happened another time. You wished you had another shot at explaining. You wanted to make things right, to see where things might go, to find out if she was still reluctant to come out, but you couldn't ask. It would be suicide to ask.

The sound of the door opening had you sitting up to have a look. You thought it would be Brittany, or Lord Tubbington if he'd escaped from the study, but instead it was another blonde; the one who you'd just been thinking about.

Quinn saw you were awake and motioned for you to be quiet, pressing her finger against her lips. You frowned in confusion, but nodded anyway, showing her you understood. Dropping her hand, she indicated for you to follow her, and you didn't even have to think twice about doing that.

Once in the hallway, Quinn shut the door softly behind you and ran a hand through her hair. She was anxious, her eyes looked tired, the hazel a mere gleam around darkened pools of black.

"Do you think Brittany will mind if we raid her parents' liquor cabinet?" Quinn asked, already on her way down the stairs. She knew you'd follow. When did you not?

Brittany's parents probably wouldn't even notice the missing alcohol. As long as the two of you didn't touch the good stuff, Dr. Pierce's prized liquor collection hidden at the back, then everything would be fine.

The two of you moved through the house like pros, having done this many times before, and quietly snuck towards the study. The key was still in the lock from earlier, and you waited for Quinn to unlock the door. Opening it a fraction, Lord Tubbington made a break for it, skittering past you both. Neither of you batted an eye at this, and were actually thankful he had left.

Once inside, Quinn closed the curtains while you flicked on the desk lamp, illuminating the room very softly. Harsh lights were not necessary for what might end up being a harsh conversation ahead. Turning back to the door, you locked it from the inside and put the key up on the mantelpiece.

You didn't need interruptions. This needed to be private. It needed to be between the two of you. Things had been building, emotions, words, and the time was right. Not everything would be solved, you knew that, because too much pain had occurred. But, maybe, just maybe, the two of you could work something out, be something more than what you currently were.

Ironically, you realised as you took the bottle Quinn was handing you, alcohol had never played a part in your relationship. With Brittany, it had started with making out at parties, and then both of you were slightly tipsy when you slept with each other. But, with Quinn, alcohol had never been needed. All of your confessions had been spilt out from a sober and clean mind, with not a drop of booze in sight.

Now, though, it was required just to drop your guards, to rip open the old wounds, and to reveal your secrets. You both needed it to ease the upcoming pain. There would be plenty of it, you were sure, so as you clinked your bottle with hers in toast, you knew to prepare for the worst.

"So where do we begin?" she asked, unsure what to do next.

You grabbed the notebook from the desk. There was no point trying to have this conversation properly if you were only going to run out of words half way through and be unable to say the important parts.

_What do you want from me?_

"I don't know anymore. I thought I wanted us to be together, but…I don't think that's possible."

_Why not?_

"Because it feels like it's too late, like we're both holding onto something we should be letting go of. We had our time together, our moment to be together, and it didn't work out," she replied, and you both took a hefty gulp from your bottles. That thought stung, that she was willing to throw everything away so easily.

_So you're giving up completely? You don't want to even try? _

"What's the point of trying to force something? I don't trust you, Santana. Not like I used to, anyway," Quinn said, her voice exasperated and tired.

_What do you mean you don't trust me? _

"I think you're scared. I think you're too scared to admit how you feel about me, and that's why you're refusing to speak to me."

_Fifty words _is _real!_

The fact that she was so hot and cold about Fifty Words was driving you insane. You had explained, you had pleaded for her to understand, and sometimes she did, other times she didn't. How did that work? Why couldn't she just accept what you were telling her? What was her problem?

"So you keep saying, but that's not possible. Shit like that doesn't just happen. It makes no sense. I can't…I can't understand it, let alone accept it."

"I need you to, or we won't work," you said, frowning at the direction this conversation was going in.

**Seventeen.**

"That's not an easy thing to do, okay? You're asking me to accept something that makes no sense!"

_I know it doesn't make any sense, but I'm stuck like this regardless. Trust me when I say I've tried to work out how this works, why this has happened, or when it will go away, but I've got nothing. Do you really think I would have let so many of our conversations go to waste if it wasn't for this stupid word limit? _

"You forget, Santana, that this daily word limit appeared at a very convenient time for you." That had you frowning and you shook your head, but Quinn stopped you before you could write any more. "I told you I loved you, I begged for you to make your mind up, and you turned me down. Then, you came to me claiming you had messed up, but when I asked to hear those three little words, you couldn't give them to me. How do you think that looks for me? You run when you're scared, and you keep running from me."

_Now who is the one running, Quinn? I've tried to approach you, to fix this, to make things right- _She placed her hand over yours and shook her head.

"You hurt me, when you turned me down, you really hurt me." Her eyes became glassy and she looked away, whispering the next words that fell from her tongue. "You didn't want me. I laid it all out for you and you turned me down. You promised me you would never hurt me, but you did."

"You wanted us to be a secret. I was terrified!" She turned at the sound of your voice and looked at you with so much sadness you wanted to cry. This was such a mess.

**Twenty seven.**

"And I wasn't? Santana, you're the opposite of who I should be in love with. You're a _girl_, and my family, my congregation condemn homosexuality. What do you think they would do to me if they found out? This would be so much worse than Beth. They would throw me out. I would have no one."

"You'd have me."

**Thirty.**

"Didn't Brittany tell you the exact same thing when you weren't ready to come out?" That was like a slap in the face and you sat back, putting some distance between you. The sting from her words had you clenching your teeth and frowning. Bringing up Brittany was uncalled for.

"None of this matters, anyway," Quinn said, shrugging her shoulders. "I can't…I don't know how to accept Fifty Words, because in my eyes, you're still scared. You've always been scared. Regardless if I could come out as being gay tomorrow and have everyone accept me, you would still be scared of your feelings for me. How can you possibly expect me to take a chance on us when you spook at the mere thought of us being together?"

_It's not just about us. It's about you accepting yourself._

"That's the thing…I do accept myself. I just know others won't."

It was a moot point. Quinn didn't see why she should be open about who she was, who she was in love with, and you weren't going to return to hiding. You had no way of convincing her you weren't scared, and she had no reason to believe your words given how inconsistent they had been in the past.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked after a few moments of silence. The two of you had filled it with drinking, trying to take the edge off the burning and stabbing pain in your chests.

You weren't sure where things went from there, but you didn't want this to be the end. It couldn't be the end. There had to be more. This wasn't all Quinn and you would have, no way.

"If…if you ever change your mind, come find me," you whispered, hoping that was enough. You really couldn't do anything else but wait.

**Thirty nine.**

"And what if it's too late?" Quinn asked, turning her head to look at you.

"It'll never be too late." You couldn't give up on this girl, you just couldn't. If she needed time, you'd give it to her, because there was no way you were going to move past her.

**Forty four.**

"What about Rachel?"

"We're friends," you stressed, having already gone over this. How many times did you need to say it?

**Forty six.**

"She likes you."

"And I love you," you replied, her point inconsequential.

**Fifty.**

Quinn sat shocked, looking at you like you'd lost your mind, blinking once before dropping her head into her hands. You heard her take a deep breath and you watched her wipe the tears away from her cheeks before turning to you.

"You're such an asshole," she mumbled, fighting back more tears and shaking her head.

Okay, that really wasn't the response you were hoping for.

"You're such a fucking asshole, Santana. Do you know how long I've been waiting to hear those words? And what, you give them to me now, when we can't be together?! Why? Why would you do that?! God, I love you so fucking much but you're an asshole right now, a complete and utter asshole." You frowned and looked away, ashamed from her berating, but she wasn't quite done with you.

Quinn's hands came out and she cupped your face, taking you completely off guard, and then she was closing the distance, her lips hard against yours. Kissing her back, nipping at her bottom lip, you whimpered at her groan and fought back for dominance.

You had no idea what had possessed her to attack you like this but you weren't going to complain, not with her hands now wandering under your tank. Good lord, she was on some kind of mission, pushing you backwards on the couch, sliding one thigh between your legs, and dropping her lips to your neck.

This was wrong. This was so, so wrong. You shouldn't have been doing this. You really shouldn't have been doing this. The two of you had just made the decision to not be together, so this made no sense. You both knew you were going to have to walk away tomorrow morning, and that was going to be so fucking painful, but yet you couldn't stop, you couldn't push her away, not when she was kissing you like her life depended on it.

"Say it again," she groaned, her teeth scraping against your neck. You moaned loudly in aggravation and whimpered when she looked at you. "Are you out of words, or are you just being an asshole?"

You held up your index finger, hoping she knew you were meaning option one, and you whimpered again, leaning in to kiss her. She kissed you back, the pace slowing, until she was leaving only light pecks on your lips.

"When you get those words back, you better fucking say it San, you better say it-" You nodded quickly and reached for her, pulling her lips back to yours. There was no more time for talking. You hadn't kissed her in so fucking long.

One night, if you were only getting this one night with her, then so be it. You were going to make it count. You were going to make her think about what she was giving up by walking away from you, because that's exactly what she was doing. The ball was in her court. You had given her everything you had to offer, and it all lay in her hands.

Bucking under her, you gripped the bottom of her oversized shirt and began to tug it up her body. You needed to feel her skin against yours, relearn the workings of her body, and make sure this was a night she couldn't forget. Working with you, Quinn broke the kiss and sat up on your lap. She made quick work of unbuttoning the shirt, and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

All you could hear was your heavy breathing as your eyes were trained on her. Fucking hell, you thought you had dreamt her perfection. Swallowing nervously, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, bringing Quinn's body so much closer. Her knee pressed between your legs was providing the best kind of friction through your sleep shorts, but the couch was too small for this. One of you would end up rolling off or injured.

Kissing the junction between her breasts, Quinn's hands entangled in your hair and pulled you closer. You listened to her whimper and whine, her hips trying to buck against something, as your hands caressed her hipbones and the top of her underwear.

"I love you," you whispered, staring straight up into those hazels you had fallen so hard for. Thankfully, your words had returned, and you hadn't floundered on that confession.

**Three.**

"I love you, too." Quinn dropped her forehead against yours and gave you a soft peck on the lips. "Get the blankets out that cupboard, okay?" You could do nothing but nod as she slid off your lap and out of reach.

Doing as she asked, you grabbed the spare blankets while she collected the pillows that had been adorning the furniture. Laying them down on the floor in a heap, she pulled a blanket from your hands and placed it out on the rug. She then took pride of place on it, waiting for you to join her.

You sat down next to her and threw the blanket out at your feet, turning back to see her watching you. She looked just like the girl you had fallen in love with, her mask gone from sight, those hazels on fire with emotion, and that sweet little smile aimed your way. Good lord, you'd missed her, you'd missed this. It was bittersweet, but fuck, you needed this, you needed her.

Carefully, her hands reached out and you helped her pull off your tank top, leaving you bare. She moved closer, so the tops of you bodies was touching, and kissed your neck softly, as if memorising you. With your head dropped back, granting her more access, and your eyes shut, you knew this was as close to heaven as you would ever get.

Pushing you onto your back, Quinn crawled on top of you until she was straddling your hips, and ran her fingers through your hair. You failed miserably at trying not to nuzzle into her touch, and found yourself letting your defences go, dropping all walls, opening every door, and granting her unprecedented access to you.

If this really was the beginning of the end, with the days ahead unknown, then you needed to make the most, make her remember what you were giving her, what she was giving up.

Letting her lead, you watched as she kissed her way down your sternum, her fingers running up your thighs, until she was level with your sleep shorts and underwear. Lifting her eyes from the bow you'd tied to keep them up, she looked straight at you and licked her lips, her fingers coming up to undo it.

Once undone, she slid both garments down your legs and pushed them away from the two of you. You watched her every move, her every look, and tried to steady your racing heart as her body moved back towards yours. Dropping a soft kiss to your lips, she worked her way back down until she was kissing the inside of your thighs.

She was teasing you, worshipping your skin, trying to kiss every inch of it, and you knew this night meant as much to her as it did to you. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to fight back the wave of emotion that was threatening to hit. You both knew this was it until further notice. The situation was at a stalemate.

Her tongue suddenly took a broad stroke of you, and you bucked in surprise, whimpering as she chuckled. Of course, she'd find that amusing. God, if you didn't love her you'd have kicked her ass for that. Holding your hips down, she went back to teasing, sucking, licking and driving you insane. It was impossible to stay still, your hands gripping her hair and tugging with each broad swipe, and your eyes clenched shut as she increased pace.

Holy fuck. You were on fire, your body was humming in anticipation, the heat of the room making you sticky uncomfortable. She was killing you, taking you so fucking close to the edge and then pulling you back. You were so, so close, so fucking close, and she was holding you back.

You wanted to cry in frustration, and your hands were tugging harder on her hair to let her know to cut that shit out. You couldn't, you couldn't be dealing with that right now. You needed her, you just needed her, but this was torture. Whimpering louder, you pulled her hair, making her move upwards towards you and kissed her hard.

Your tongue could taste yourself on her lips as she kissed you back harder, nipping at your bottom lip. The noises you were making were obscene, and you were so thankful that everyone was upstairs and that Dr and Dr Pierce were out of the house for the night.

"Why?" Quinn groaned, your fingers sliding down her body in retaliation for her teasing you. "Why can't we just be like this? Why do we have to tell people?" she whimpered, her hips bucking in frustration.

"I refuse to hide who I am, who I love," you answered, kissing her again, your tongue flicking against hers, battling for her to submit to you, to accept your answer.

**Thirteen. **

"Please?" She was begging you, groaning at your reluctance, and you were fighting so hard to stay strong, to not give in to the angel asking you to be her secret sin.

"No." You shook your head and wiped the few stray tears running down her cheeks and pulled her body closer with your legs, wrapping them around her waist. "I love you, but I _can't_."

**Twenty. **

You weren't going to apologise, because you weren't sorry. You couldn't give that part of yourself up. You had worked too hard to get there, hiding with her, what you were, would be impossible. Every time she asked, her eyes pleading yours, you felt overwhelming shame for being gay. She needed to stop asking, she needed to accept that this was something you just wouldn't do.

"I can't come out, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry but I can't do that-" You didn't need to hear anymore. You'd heard those words before, and it was like a broken record. "I love you, so fucking much, San," she moaned, those hazel eyes burning into yours.

It didn't matter how much she loved you, she wasn't ready to tell anyone about it. You were pretty sure if Quinn had her way, no one would know about it; neither Brittany nor Rachel. Especially not Rachel. It could be her dirty secret, you could be her dirty secret, but it was better this way. Things would be better this way, or so you kept trying to convince yourself.

How it could be better, you didn't know, because knowing that these were the last kisses you two might share was breaking you apart. Why was the world so fucking cruel? What gave people the right to condemn others for loving someone? Why couldn't this gorgeous girl openly love you?

"I love you, too, so much." Too much; more than she would ever know.

**Twenty six.**

Manoeuvring Quinn onto her back, you settled yourself between her thighs and kissed her soundly, your lips sliding over hers, her tongue peeking out to brush against your bottom lip. Your hands ran up her ribcage, cupped her breasts in your hands, and you fought back a moan. She was so fucking soft, and you wanted this, you wanted this forever. You wanted time to stop, to freeze the two of you in this study for eternity, so you never had to part. God, why couldn't you be with her? Why was she so ashamed of being with you?

Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, your lips kissed their way down her jaw and over her pulse point, sucking on the skin softly. As much as you wanted to leave your mark, you knew you'd leave one anyone, regardless if it was visible or not. Whether she wanted to publically admit it or not, she was yours. Her heart, her body, they belonged to you, and you were going to treat them with the respect they deserved one last time before she walked away.

*0*0*

Stirring a little bit later, you felt Quinn's body slide out from the covers next to you, and you heard her moving about the room. Your eyes were too tired to open, but you reached out across the floor in search of her body. It was around there somewhere, and you wanted it back.

"Hmmm, what are you doing?" you groaned, finally opening your eyes when you felt her settle on your lap. She was wearing her oversized shirt, half the buttons undone, giving you a beautiful view, and smiling softly at you.

**Thirty one.**

"A reminder, in the morning," she replied, biting her bottom lip in concentration as she removed the lid from the dry marker she had found. You frowned at her as she advanced on you, but couldn't help let her draw on your skin. You were distracted by the thighs currently under your hands, and the discovering that she wasn't wearing underwear.

"What's it say?" As much fun as it would be to explore her partially naked body further, she was drawing on your skin, and you were curious.

**Thirty four.**

She put the lid back on, put the pen to the side and then admired her handiwork on your forehead. Her hazel eyes were alight from the booze and her artistic skills, and you felt the warmth in your chest spread to your fingertips. Even if she'd drawn a freaking penis on your forehead, you'd endure it just for that look on her face.

"It's the number fifty," she replied, sliding down your body so she could rest her chin on your sternum and stare at you. God, you loved when she was this affectionate.

"Why?" The question needed to be asked.

**Thirty five.**

"So I can't forget. If what you say is true, and Fifty Words is real, then I need to remember that tonight you gave me the three most important words I've been waiting to hear from you. You gave me some of your words. I can't forget that. Tomorrow, when I look at you, I'll remember exactly what happened, and why. Maybe then, I might think of a way to keep you."

There had to be better ways for her to remember, but that bottle of Jose Cuervo lying half empty next to your makeshift bed had made it impossible for you to think of any. It didn't matter. It would wash off. Plus, it was kind of sweet, Quinn's drunken ass smiling at you like that, so proud of herself.

You cupped her face and kissed her again, desperate to soak up as much of her as possible. You knew come morning she'd be gone and this, this would be over. She may have mentioned finding a way of keeping you, making this work, but you knew that would never happen. She had chosen, as had you, and now it was a waiting game before the sun rose and cast reality back onto you.

It was only a matter of time.

*0*0*

You woke up in the study, alone. The covers were rumpled over your body, and the booze was still lying out. It was pretty chilly, without your bed mate to keep you warm, and you figured Quinn must have left not long ago.

Of course, she had. There was no reason to stay. She wouldn't want the others finding you both like that. It would raise too many questions, and neither of you would be willing to provide answers.

Sighing, you crawled from under the covers and rustled together your clothes. The clock on the wall told you that Brittany would at least be up. The others might have been having a lie in, but that was doubtful.

Before leaving, you tidied up the mess, putting the booze away and folding the blankets to be washed. After doing so, you tip toed out and headed towards the stairs, only to be caught with one foot on the bottom step.

"There you are! I was looking for you," Rachel called, her feet padding towards you. "Everyone is in the kitchen, and Brittany's cooking breakfast. I said you were having a lie in, and insisted that they let you sleep. Though, I actually had no idea where you were. Where did you sleep last night?"

She had followed you up the stairs and into Brittany's room, where you quickly pulled out proper clothes from you bag to get changed into. Rachel was polite enough to turn away from you while you did so, and turned back once you had cleared your throat for her to look.

"What's with this?" she asked, reaching up and tapping your forehead.

At first, you had no idea what the fuck she was talking about, but then it clicked. Quinn. Last night. You'd told her. She'd believed you. She didn't want to forget. She wanted to remember, remember you giving her your words, remember you telling her that you loved her.

Grabbing a post-it note from Britt's desk, you scribbled your reply and handed it to her.

_Quinn._

"Ah." No more was needed to be said on Rachel's part. Apparently, that was enough for her to understand. Psychic abilities, maybe? Either that or she knew better than to ask when it came to the blonde. "Well, we should maybe wash it off-"

"There you guys are!" Brittany chimed, her head popping round the doorway. "Come get breakfast, I just finished up." She was waiting on the two of you to follow, so any plans of removing Quinn's penmanship from your skin were scrapped.

Coming into the kitchen behind Rachel, you helped carry things through into the dining room, and then you were pushed into a chair by Britt. Apparently, you were a guest and didn't need to assist. Whatever.

The rest of the group came traipsing in, each carrying things as well, and everyone settled down at the table. They kept sneaking glances at you and frowning, and you knew it wasn't going to take long before one of them had the guts to ask about it. If Rachel hadn't asked, you totally would have forgotten it was even there, and now you wished she had left it alone.

The significance behind Quinn's drunken scribbling didn't need to be shared.

Unfortunately, no one else got that memo.

"Why do you have the number fifty written on your forehead?" Kurt asked, shooting you a curious look.

"It's the number of sexual partners she's had," Rachel blurted out, looking for a suitable lie for you. That was not a fucking suitable lie, however. You shot her a foul glare and she coward slightly, wincing at her words.

"What?!" Tina spluttered, choking on her orange juice. "You've been sexually active with fifty people?"

"Jesus, Satan," Mercedes said in disgust.

"Joseph, Mary, Gabriel, Judas, Michael, fish, wine-" Brittany began listing, counting on her fingers as she did so.

"Britt, we're not naming things from the bible," Quinn interrupted, giving her a soft smile as she did so.

"Oh." Looking puzzled, she dropped her hands and pouted for a second. "I totally would have won if we were, though."

"Totally," Quinn replied, nodding in agreement. Brittany accepted her answer and tucked back into the pancakes in the middle of the table, tearing pieces off to dip in the pot of maple syrup.

"Have you really been with fifty people? And what exactly did you do with them all?" Kurt questioned, sliding into the chair next to Tina.

"Gosh, Kurt, if you don't know that then I suggest you look it up online or something," Rachel answered, clearly trying to steer the pressure off of you. It wasn't working. You were going to murder her. You were literally going to murder her. Maybe then her dads would have a reason to hate you.

"I've been with fifty people," Brittany announced, actually taking the heat off of you, as the table then turned to questioning her.

"Maybe you shouldn't advertise something like that. It might give people the wrong impression," Tina suggested, looking at you as if she felt sorry for you. Pft. There was nothing for her to pity, especially after last night, and really, this whole thing was pissing you off.

Rachel seemed to sense you were close to snapping, however, and quickly hauled you up from the table, giving everyone her show smile as she did so.

"How about I help you wash this off, hmm? We wouldn't want to give the wrong impression now, would we?" You weren't meant to answer, apparently, as she dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, safe from the others.

Once inside, door locked behind the two of you, Rachel put the toilet seat down and made you sit. You were shooting her a foul glare, one she was pointedly ignoring, and waited. It only took a second, as when she turned back with a washcloth to wipe the numbers off your forehead, she caved.

"Okay, I'm so, so sorry! I thought my lie would help! I didn't know they were going to demand your sexual history and then the massacre that followed. Please stop looking at me like that, I honestly thought I was doing good!"

Your eyes widened as you went to scream at her for 'doing good', but she quickly back peddled before you had the chance.

"Yes, yes, I know doing good does not mean making you out to be sexually adventurous, but still. It just slipped out, Santana. I would never imply what I just implied on purpose. And FYI, I hate using such words as 'whore', 'slut' etc. They put shame on a girl for enjoying sex, and that is completely inappropriate. If one wishes to enjoy sex, one can, and no word shall imply otherwise!" She was going off on a tangent, and frankly, you were past caring.

"Stop," you interrupted, signalling with your hand for her to do just that.

**Thirty six.**

"Right, sorry," she ended, dropping her head. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the hand with the cloth in it, causing her to look up. Pointing at your forehead, you asked her with a smile and a rise of your eyebrows if she'd continue wiping it off, to which you nodded.

Sitting there, her hand rubbing the numbers off your forehead delicately, you rolled your eyes at yourself and grabbed her hand again. You were taking your semi-hangover out on her, and that wasn't fair. You needed to stop being a douche. She was only trying to help. A smile worked when you didn't have words, but you did, so the least you could do was use them on the only girl who had stood by you throughout this crap.

"Sorry," you said, shrugging at her. As usual, she smiled as if you'd just told her the best news ever and quickly went back to what she was doing.

**Thirty seven.**

"So what happened between the two of you?" Rachel eventually asked, her curiosity finally getting the better of her. You actually expected her to ask sooner, but no doubt your sour mood had held her back.

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled slowly while your mind decided to bombard you with snapshots of last night. Her kisses, her tears, her cries of ecstasy, her declarations of love, her empty spot next to you when you woke up.

"We slept together."

**Forty.**

"What?!" The shock on Rachel's face was almost comical, but you were in no mood to laugh. Reality was crashing back in on you.

"I told her I loved her, then had sex." You said it as if everything had been so simple, as if you hadn't let her insecurities ruin what would surely be a beautiful relationship.

**Forty nine.**

"So are you two now back together, dating?" It was obvious that she didn't know what to make of this development, and was hoping for the best. Her eyes betrayed her, though, and she knew your answer wouldn't be the sweet salvation you had been pining for.

"No."

**Fifty. **

"Why? I thought that if you told her you loved her things would…" Rachel stopped speaking when she saw you tap your forehead, indicating you'd used all fifty words. Giving you a sad smile, she pulled you into a hug and let you relax against her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Santana."

Despite what Quinn said about Rachel liking you, you actually believed her, and you were sorry, too. Christ, in what universe did you think it would be better to taste the forbidden fruit? Why, why had you been so armament about telling her how you felt when you knew it would never go anywhere? Were you trying to torture yourself? Were you trying to create a living hell to live in?

This, this was what you had hoped to avoid. You didn't want this. You didn't want the angel to ignore you once more, and she would. Quinn wouldn't be able to handle her conflicting emotions towards you, and she'd run. She'd hide away, up in the clouds, far from your reach, and you couldn't do anything about it. You had tried.

Just like you'd fear, Satan was back in hell, and this time, there would be no reprieve. The angel you had fallen so hard for would never return. Her God, her religion, your persecutors, would forever have a hold of her, and you could do nothing but love her from afar, hoping that maybe, maybe one day she would fall from grace again, back into your arms.

You weren't going to hold your breath, that was for sure.

*0*0*


	12. Chapter 12: Moving Forward

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Moving Forward

*0*0*

You didn't think you could feel worse than in that moment. Rachel had driven you back to your house after the sleepover, and you were wrapped up in your bed, hiding from the world. Your heart was breaking, and you were powerless to stop the tears from falling.

It wasn't fair. The whole situation was completely unfair. You were getting a reality check, but it was still complete nonsense. Love just wasn't enough, and knowing that in some situations, your love for someone wouldn't be enough to help them, to support them, to make them feel safe, was tearing you apart.

You wanted to protect Quinn. You wanted to hold her hand when she was scared, hug her when she needed to feel safe, kiss her when she needed comfort, and stand beside her through the storm. You could look after her, make sure no one made any comments about her sexuality at school, and you could take the brunt of the backlash for her. You just wanted to love her, completely, and have the rest of the world leave the two of you alone.

But you weren't enough, your love, your support, your safety wasn't enough for her, and that thought hurt you more than you ever thought it would. You weren't enough for the girl you loved, and if you couldn't be with her through this, then it didn't look like you'd ever be with her.

You didn't want to give in, to let your fears override your common sense and throw in the towel, but the two of you needed to band together if you were ever going to make it. The situation had been cleared up, you both knew where the other stood, so why couldn't adjustments be made so you were standing next to each other, rather than apart?

This was your last year in Lima, because both of you had been applying to universities across the country, and none of your choices matched. A long distance relationship could work, if both parties were on the same page, but Quinn and you weren't even in the same book. Plus, it wasn't like she was going to just jump out the closet once high school was over. She would need her parents to pay her tuition fees, she would need a home to come back to during the holidays, and there was nothing you could do to help either of those situations.

The reality of the situation was that Quinn might never come out, and you were the idiot who fell hopelessly in love with her.

By the time school had come around the next day, you got into Rachel's car looking very morose when she came to pick you up. On Sunday, she said that she'd take you to school , and you think she only offered because she didn't want you skipping and lying in bed all day. That's exactly what you would have done if you'd had the option, but she was being kind enough to make sure you kept your grades up for when you needed to get the hell out of Lima. No college was going to accept a student with shitty grades.

Attempting to give her a smile, though you were sure it looked more like a grimace, you buckled yourself in and rode in silence. She obviously knew her words of wisdom weren't going to do much for you today, and probably thought it best to leave you to your thoughts.

Only after parking, getting out and heading into school, did you grab her arm and stop her in place. Rachel turned to you confused, no doubt wondering why you suddenly wanted her attention now, and waited to hear what you had to say.

"Thanks for the lift." You gave her another smile, one that actually felt like a smile, and she returned it.

**Four.**

"You're welcome." Giving you a nod, she made to leave and told you she'd see you later for lunch.

You watched her walk away and then perused the rest of the hallway. It wasn't ridiculously crowded, as it was still quite early, but there were enough students meandering around to bump into you every now and then as you stood in their way.

Sighing, you fought back the anger at them, these random people, who probably hadn't done anything wrong, but it was because of them, their families, their town, your town, Quinn was left hiding in the closet. They had made your life awkward and difficult with their judging eyes, and their hushed talk and whispers. If they weren't so judging and were more accepting, Quinn would never have a problem being out like you.

You knew better than to dwell on the situation, and really, getting angry at your fellow peers wasn't going to do you any good. If anything, it was going to make you stressed, pissed off, and you'd likely explode and waste your words on those fools. No, it was better to swallow that bitter pill and bury your resentment and anger away for another day, a day when you could scream Spanish obscenities at them without a word limit.

Leaning against your locker, staring into space, you felt the presence of someone come and stand next to you. At first, you thought it was Rachel, but you could see her out the corner of your eye talking to other members of the Glee Club, so that ruled her out. Then, your heart did a jump in your chest, and your stomach flipped at the thought it could be Quinn, but she had no reason to come and talk to you.

Putting yourself out your misery, you turned to see who had arrived and were met with the beaming smile of Brittany. She looked immaculate as always in her Cheerios uniform, and despite your glower in her direction, her happiness went unfazed.

"Coach wants to see you," she said, her eyes sparkling away.

"What?" you asked, frowning in confusion. There had to be a mistake. Coach never wanted to see you again.

**Five.**

"She wants to talk to you." You continued to frown, and your feet refused to move despite Brittany giving your sleeve a tug towards her office. "Don't question it, San, just go," she said with a laugh, and you finally found yourself moving with her.

Depositing you at the door, Brittany gave you a reassuring smile before knocking on it for you. Of course she knew you'd probably not do it yourself, and instead make a break for it; the girl could just read you so well. Thankfully for Brittany, she had enough time to dash away and get out of sight before the door opened.

"Sandbags, take a seat," Sue barked from behind her desk as Becky slipped past you.

Doing as you were told, given you really had no idea why you were in there but you were sure Brittany wouldn't have led you like a lamb to slaughter, you took a seat in front of Coach Sylvester's desk and awaited whatever news she was going to tell you.

"It turns out, according to my psychic, that you can be around my Cheerios, and in fact, your particular showmanship is necessary for us to win nationals. There's a judge with a Latino fetish on the board. Therefore, welcome back to the team. Your uniform is hanging by the door, and I expect you to change into it the second you leave this office. I don't want to see those foul clothes you're wearing ever again."

Flabbergasted by her words, you sunk back in the chair in shock. What the hell was going on? Had she seriously just told you that you were back on the Cheerios? What had changed her mind? What did her psychic have to do with anything?

"Why now?" you asked, frowning.

**Seven.**

"The powers above are done with you. I don't know who you pissed off up there, but I hope you've learnt your lesson. Personally, I don't know how you managed to survive with a daily word limit, but it seems you made it out alive. That in itself is impressive, and definitely a trait the Cheerios require. Withstanding daily psychological torture is an important aspect to cheerleading."

"Wait, you knew?!"

**Ten.**

You were sure you hadn't told anyone who would have told Coach. No way. None of them would have ratted you out like that. Though, a niggling feeling at the back of your mind thought of Quinn, but if she had told Coach about you hearing voices, you would have been locked up in a mental asylum, rather than having just been kicked off the Cheerios. So how did she know?

"You're not the only one who can hear that ridiculous voice every time you speak. If it was going to continue much longer, I was going to sew your mouth shut."

"But how?"

**Twelve.**

"The Sylvesters' have always had special powers, I don't question it and neither should you. Clearly this punishment was only temporary, could you imagine if it was permanent? So think carefully, Sandbags, before you go wasting your words again. Now, your uniform." Pointing to the pristine Cheerios uniform hanging by the door, you rose from your seat and picked it up.

It felt so strange to have it back in your hands again, almost as if you were finally getting things back on track, returning to your old self.

"Thank you…I think," you mumbled, heading towards the door. It felt safer to get the hell out of there before Coach could say anything else.

**Sixteen.**

Coming out of Coach's office, you watched as the short and sprite body of Rachel darted up the hallway towards you. She looked concerned, and once she saw the uniform in your hand, she stopped dead in her tracks. It took her a moment of staring at you for her to finally come to her senses before actually coming over.

"What was up with Coach? Are you okay?" Her eyes refused to meet yours, and instead were looking at the uniform.

"I'm back on the team," you replied, still confused as to how that had happened. But then again, when Coach had kicked you off the team, it hadn't made much sense, so of course this was going to be the same.

**Twenty one.**

"Oh." Rachel licked her lips and swallowed anxiously, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. You knew she wanted to say more, was thinking too much, but it was obvious she wasn't going to be upfront about it.

"Yeah. She knew about Fifty Words. She could hear it."

**Thirty one.**

"Wow. That's something I'm definitely going to have to share with my great aunt Aggie. She always had a theory about the Sylvester Clan but could never be sure. This just confirms it…what is it?"

"Q."

**Thirty two.**

Across the hall, her eyes fixed on yours, Quinn stood motionless as students moved passed her to get to their lockers. She blinked, once, twice, before frowning at the uniform in your hand. You watched her look of confusion turn into one of recognition, and then a small smile appeared on her lips. Small, tiny, miniscule, almost unrecognisable to the untrained eye.

Sadness suddenly flickered across her face when she looked up from the uniform to the girl standing next to you. You felt Rachel tense, and you knew she was watching this scene unfold, too. Quinn tucked her hair behind her ear and stood up straighter, and you could practically see her armour and mask fall into place, before she made eye contact with you.

There were so many emotions warring behind her eyes, and you knew she was thinking the same thing about you. She flinched, and then glanced away as you fought every cell in your body from moving towards her. Licking your lips, you held steady and watched her look at Rachel with so much disdain and hurt that you almost faltered, your foot moving to close the distance.

Quinn saw it, saw you, and shook her head, turned away and disappeared into the crowd of students that now lined the hallways. You sighed, and you watched as Rachel flinched at the sound. It wasn't her fault, that was not her fault, so she shouldn't have been blaming herself. She hadn't done anything wrong.

"I'm going to…" You waved the uniform to show her what you meant, and she looked at you quickly before dropping her eyes and nodding. Satisfied with her response, you gave her a smile and then sought out the closest bathroom.

**Thirty five. **

You had missed cheerleading, and especially the time it allowed you to spend with Quinn and Brittany. So, despite the peculiar way you were kicked off and brought back on the team, you weren't going to test your luck by not putting the uniform on right away. Knowing Coach, and after that new revelation about her hearing your voiceover, it felt safer not to push the boundaries. God only knows what she could do in retaliation.

Changing in the bathroom stall, you folded up the clothes you had been wearing previously and placed them on the sink counter. Pulling your hair up into the customary ponytail, you looked yourself over in the mirror and had to do a double take.

It was almost as if nothing had changed.

You knew better, of course, but the changes had been good. Getting this uniform back was another good change. Before, you used your power as a cheerleader to victimise and bully, but those days were over. Yes, you still looked fierce, a factor you loved, but there was no rule saying you had to be a bitch once the uniform was back on.

However, the rest of the school didn't seem to get that memo, because the second you stepped out that bathroom, everyone stopped. You licked your lips and took a deep breath, waiting for someone to cry in outrage at this new development, but that didn't look to be happening.

Instead, the jocks who had previously been dicks to you gave you smirks and smiles, showing their appreciation at having you back; the ones at the bottom of the social ladder winced and suddenly became very close with their lockers; and the middle ground, the ones who flew under the radar, looked on curiously.

In that moment, it was as if you had awoken the girl who had vanished along with her words. Adrenaline suddenly started thundering round your body, your heart thumping loudly in your ears, and a smirk took over your lips. This was a test, they were watching to see who you were going to be, if you were going to be the girl they remembered or the girl you had been these last few months, and you couldn't afford to fail.

Holding your head up higher, you strutted down the hallway like you used to, and took satisfaction with each gawking face.

That's right, McKinley, Santana Lopez was back and you'd better watch your backs.

Good lord, this felt fantastic.

*0*0*

Entering the auditorium at lunchtime, you looked round for Rachel but couldn't see her. She was nowhere in sight. Frowning, you took a seat in the middle row, thinking she'd just be a little bit late, and waited. You didn't want to start eating without her, and she never started eating without you when you were running late, so it was only courteous of you to return the favour.

Unfortunately, after fifteen minutes had passed and no sign of her, you had to start eating. You couldn't afford to be late to your classes, and you didn't want to have to rush your food down in order to make it on time.

Where the hell was she, though? She hadn't said anything about a Glee Club meeting, or any other club meeting for that matter. In fact, that morning she had told you she'd meet you here for lunch. Pulling out your phone, you sent her a text asking if everything was okay and was she coming to eat with you. It took only a minute or so later for you to get a reply.

_I'm sorry, I got held up with Spanish. My essays aren't good enough, and I'm being made to work on them with Schue. I should have let you know, sorry, San. X _

Accepting her reply with a sigh, you wondered if there was any way you could help her out with Spanish without it being cheating. You honestly didn't know why Schue was giving her such a hard time. You'd read her essays, and they were considerably better since she'd started working with you than before. Whatever, you'd just have to pay more attention when you went over her work in the future.

Rather than get up and head to join the other Cheerios in the cafeteria, you stayed put and ate your food in silence. It actually gave you time to sort out some of your thoughts and clear your head for the Cheerio practice taking place that afternoon. God only knows where about you'd be in the pyramid, no doubt back at the bottom, but you'd be working directly with Quinn and if that was happening you needed to have a game plan.

You didn't want to inadvertently hurt her, and you were pretty sure that was possible. Things were so delicate, and Christ, that wasn't your fault, nor hers, but someone needed to think practically if both of you were going to make it through this with your hearts still intact. Pft, as if that was possible.

Running over every scenario in your head, you knew you needed a buffer, and Brittany was the best possible one. Plus, you wanted to thank her for whatever it was she did that morning to get you back on the team. Sending her a text, you were pleasantly surprised to hear she was on her way to see you anyway. Smiling, you knew you could always count on Brittany.

That girl was gold.

*0*0*

Cheerios' practice that afternoon was not as bad as you thought it would be. Mainly, because Brittany was awesome, and she allowed you and Quinn to dance around each other like nothing had happened, and protect you both from the wounded looks that would flash across your faces every so often.

What you were once worried about became easy, and by the Cheerio practice on Thursday afternoon, a system had been worked out. Rather than Quinn speaking to you directly, she'd tell Brittany what needed to be done, and the message would be passed on. If Coach noticed, she didn't say anything and just let all of you get on with it.

So, while your friendship with Brittany was blooming, and you were spending a lot more time with her thanks to the Cheerios, you noticed another friendship was lacking. At first, you didn't think much of it, but as the days passed, it became more and more obvious that something wasn't right.

You had spent every lunch since Monday with Brittany and the Cheerios in the cafeteria. It hadn't been your first choice, but Rachel was constantly busy and fobbing you off with excuses left, right and centre. It hurt a little, but you tried not to show it.

Brittany, being the genius that she is, saw that you were hurt by Rachel's absence and practically ordered you to talk to her. She didn't see the problem, nor how it couldn't be resolved by the two of you just having a conversation. You wanted to point out that your words were precious, but you didn't. That would have been a dickish move on your part, because Rachel was worth spending those words on, especially if it meant fixing whatever had gone wrong those last few days.

Given that she was hiding from you, though, it wasn't easy to have that conversation. It took Brittany begging Rachel in Glee to meet her in the auditorium at lunch for an opportunity to finally arise. Rachel had practically become a ghost those last few days, missing in the hallway, texting you to say she couldn't take you to school that week anymore, avoiding you in classes, skipping lunch with you, and just generally leaving you feeling alone.

This wasn't like her. She wouldn't do that to you without some sort of reason, and you needed to find out what it was. Therefore, you sat in the back row of the auditorium, well out of sight from the door, and waited for Rachel to arrive. Brittany was sitting on the stage, kicking her legs back and forth, and willing to go along with the plan long enough for you to come out of hiding.

Several minutes past before the door opened and in strode Rachel, a forlorn look on her face as she walked down the aisle to Brittany. You rose silently behind her and started your own walk towards the stage.

"Okay, Brittany, what was it you needed to go over? You're our best dancer, so I really can't understand how you can be struggling with these new moves. You were the one to choreograph it. If you can't do the moves, why would you put them in? Regardless, I'll help as best I can but I really think you should ask Mike if you want help. I'm not that great a dancer."

"Actually, I don't need help, and you're a good dancer so don't worry about that."

"If you don't need help, then what am I doing here?"

"You two need to talk."

"You two?" Turning round, Rachel finally saw you and her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, before dropping her head in defeat.

"Have fun, guys!" Brittany called, jumping off the stage and running up the aisle to give you two peace.

With the sound of the door closing behind her, Rachel licked her lips nervously and looked around the room, no doubt waiting for you to make the first move. You went to run a hand through you hair, and then realised you couldn't due to the ponytail, so dropped it back down. Rachel watched your movements, and bit her lip as she took in the uniform again.

"Why are you ignoring me?" you asked quietly. She was never going to acknowledge the elephant in the room so someone had to.

**Seven. **

Rachel looked away, ashamed, her hands fidgeting in front of her as she shook her head. You knew before she opened her mouth she was going to lie to you. You had been expecting it, in fact.

"I'm not," she replied, still not looking at you.

"Rach, please don't lie to me." You were begging her, and she crumbled. She looked at you sadly, and took a shaky breath, wiping down her skirt as she did so.

**Thirteen.**

"You're right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied to you." Tucking her hair behind her ear, you watched her drop her bag to the floor and take a seat in the front row. Joining her, you raised your eyebrows in question and prodded for her to continue.

"So…?"

**Fourteen.**

"It's just, I know you and Quinn aren't together now, but she still loves you, and I didn't want to hurt her by hanging out with you all the time. I know she thinks we're more than friends, and that has to be putting a strain on the tentative friendship between you two, so maybe it's best if I let you be for a while. I don't want to mess things up, complicate things, or get in the way. Being friends with you does all of that."

"So you don't want to be friends anymore?"

**Twenty two.**

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all! I do, gosh, Santana, I really do. I just don't want to complicate this for you. I don't want to get in the way, or make Quinn think there is anything going on. We're friends, and I want it to stay that way, but you love her and I'm making things difficult-"

"You're not," you said interrupting her. "You're not complicating things at all. Quinn won't talk to me, and we're giving each other distance, so you couldn't complicate things if you tried."

**Forty nine.**

"I'm sorry, I won't ignore you like that again. It's just, she looks so hurt every time we're together."

"Well, that's her problem. She needs to understand we're just friends," you replied, anger bubbling up within you. You couldn't afford to have Quinn ruining your friendship with Rachel just because she felt insecure. She couldn't have her cake and eat it too, it didn't work like that.

**Sixty. **

Sitting up straighter, you looked up at the ceiling, God only knows why because you obviously weren't going to see anything, and frowned in confusion. Sixty. You had said sixty words today, and your voiceover hadn't stopped you ten words ago.

"Is everything alright, Santana?" Rachel asked, also staring up at the ceiling in interest.

"My words," you whispered, surprised you could still speak.

**Sixty two. **

"What about them?"

"I'm above the limit."

**Sixty six.**

"Seriously?!" Nodding in reply you sat back, shocked. What was going on?

Not that it wasn't great, but it was seriously unnerving having the ability to speak freely knowing you might lose it at any moment.

"This is fascinating!" Rachel cried, reaching into her bag and taking out her phone. You watched curiously as she sent a text to her great aunt, informing her of this development. "She might be able to shed some light on the situation," she began to explain. "If anyone knows anything about what's happening to you, it would be her. I told her of your plight back when it first happened, which I hope you don't mind me doing so, but she might be able to help. As I previously mentioned, she was the one who helped nurture my psychic abilities."

Chuckling to yourself at her enthusiasm, and having missed these kind of interactions, you waved off her fears and listened to her rattle on. It was good, and it felt like things were back to normal. Hopefully, once you both left the auditorium, things would continue on this path rather than Rachel retreating from you once again.

Looking over at her, though, you knew she wouldn't hurt you like that again. She had obviously seen the distress you were in, and there was no way she'd want to jeopardize your friendship. It was good to have her back, and thankfully this was only a minor bump in the road.

*0*0*

You were starting to realise that your words were coming back in drips and drabs. Some days, some fortunate days, you could say as many as eighty words, but on other days, you were stuck back at fifty. It made no sense and there really was no rhyme or reason to the madness, but you had to endure it anyway.

Today was one of those days were you just felt rubbish. Nothing bad was really happening, but you were missing a certain blonde. As hard as you tried, you couldn't block her out. She somehow ended up in your thoughts and, like your words, there was nothing you could do to rectify the situation.

You kept seeing her, in classes, in the hallway, at Cheerios practice, and it was a constant reminder of the friendship ruined between the two of you, and a relationship left smouldering in the hope it would put itself out. That wasn't happening. Your feelings for her weren't dying, and in some occasions, they're grow stronger.

You'd notice the coy little smile she gets in class, and you'd see her satisfied smirk when the baby Cheerios actually listened to her at practice. You memorised those gorgeous hazel eyes whenever they came out to play, and died a little inside when they were directed at you. It was torture, emotional torture seeing her like so, especially when you were so used to those hazel eyes lightening up at you in the safety of your bedroom, you lips on her skin and her presence in your heart.

In light of your mood, Brittany suggested that you come over and hang out with her. You couldn't think of a valid reason why you shouldn't, and you knew if you just turned her down she'd come over to yours, so you went. Things with Rachel were back on track, but she was at home with her Spanish tutor or Britt would have invited her too, you were sure.

Apparently, her fathers had found out about her poor grade and thought it best to hire her some help. You were sure they only did that just so she didn't spend more time with you, as the men still didn't like you all that much, but whatever.

Curling up on the couch, blanket draped over your legs, you watched as Brittany fluttered around the room to set everything up. The two of you were returning to your old tradition of movie night on a Friday, but without the sex. She had insisted this, especially after finding out you were just going to brood at home.

With that knowledge, Britt was doing her best to cheer you up. So far, she had picked your favourite Disney movie, Lilo & Stitch, and had made you hot chocolate and cookies. You knew this to be one of her cures for a broken heart, and you shot her a thankful smile at all the effort she was going to.

With the movie on, and the menu about to load, Brittany climbed back over to snuggle in next to you. You offered her some of the blanket you were using, and the two of you cozied up like you used to. It was nice, and the comfort eased the pain of Quinn's absence.

Only now, sitting there with Brittany, did you realise what she had gone through with you. The pain, the aching, the tears, Brittany had endured all of that for you when you wouldn't come out. Except, back then, she didn't have anyone to comfort her, to make her feel better, to cuddle with and give her a smile that said everything would get better. God, you were a monster to her.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling her attention from the screen to you. "I'm so, so sorry for making you hide who you were in love with."

**Twenty.**

Brittany looked at you a bit bewildered before her eyes softened and she found your hand under the covers. Giving it a soft squeeze, she leant over and kissed your temple, holding you closer.

"It's okay, San. You were scared. I understand," she replied, calming you somewhat with her soothing tone. You still felt awful, and your thoughts were abuzz, needing to get out.

"You should hate me for putting you through that, though. I made you hide, I ignored you and I hurt you. You should hate me." Why didn't she? Why had Brittany been so willing to forgive you for that? Yeah, she moved on to Artie, but still, why had she become friends with you again?

**Forty five.**

"Do you hate Quinn?" Brittany asked, pulling you from your questions.

"No. God no." Please, as if you could ever hate Quinn. You loved the girl. You could never hate her, not at all.

**Forty eight.**

Brittany smiled at you like you just proved her point, and you chuckled under your breath. Yeah, you had definitely just proved her point.

"Quinn is scared, too. You should remember that. You just have to give her some time and be willing to wait on her. She'll come around. And plus, just because she won't be with you, doesn't mean you can't be friends."

"She won't want to see me," you said, shaking your head. Quinn seemed pretty happy staying away from you, so there was no way she'd want to suddenly strike up a friendship again.

**Sixty four.**

"That's not true. She misses you, she always has. You need to be there for her. She's hurting, she loves you and she hates herself for how scared she is. Surely you know what's that like." Nodding, you frowned, understanding exactly what Quinn was going through.

It didn't matter how much you loved Brittany back then, you couldn't come out. It was too scary, too much, and you stood to lose too many people. You weren't ready, and you needed longer. Quinn was going through the exact same thing. She definitely stood to lose a lot, her social status, her church, her family, her home.

So yes, she probably needed friends to help her, to support her, because that's what you had needed. If you hadn't been so scared of everyone treating you like shit, maybe you could have finally plucked up the courage to come out yourself. Obviously, you'll never know for sure, but if you had enough friends to make you feel safe, to make you feel accepted, that might have made the process easier.

In no way whatsoever were you trying to influence Quinn into coming out, though. She needed to do that on her own, in her own time. You just wanted to be there to support her. Hell, that's why you wanted to be with her if she ever did come out, so surely you could do the same as her friend.

As if Britt knew you were done with that conversation, she hit play on the movie and snuggled closer. You smiled at her softly, thankful for her insight and decided to tackle the friend situation with Quinn later. For now, you were going to let the awesomeness of Lilo & Stitch wash over you and enjoy your evening as best you could.

*0*0*

On Monday, you made the decision you had been pondering about since Friday night with Brittany. You wanted Quinn in your life, and not just as the girl you were so in love with it hurt but the one you couldn't be with. No, she needed to be more than that.

Therefore, after Monday's cheer practice, once everyone had left the locker room, you decided to make your move. As Captain, Quinn always was the last one to leave, so you were sure you could talk to her then. You had thought about doing it during the day, but there were too many possibilities of being interrupted, and you honestly just wanted a proper chance to talk to the girl.

It had been so long since the two of you had talked, or at least it felt that way.

Brittany's eyes had been sparkling when she had left, mouthing you good luck as she did so, and you shot her a thankful smile. How she knew what you were going to do was beyond you, but you knew better than to question it.

So seeing as it was just Quinn and you left, you closed your locker door and went in search of her. She was sorting through permission slips in the office attached to the locker room, and you stood in the doorway watching her. If she knew you were there, she wasn't letting on, so you cleared your throat to get her attention.

"Hi," you said, trying to sound confident, but it coming out more as a whisper.

**Eighteen.**

"Hi," she replied, dropping the papers on the desk and turning to you in wonder. She clearly wasn't expecting you to talk to her. That had been the rule, especially at Cheerios. So, you had to be breaking that rule for a specific reason.

"Friends…I want to be friends," you whispered, feeling the ache in your chest worsen with each breath. That wasn't how you had wanted to come out and say it, but your brain was malfunctioning with her so close.

**Twenty three.**

"Friends?" she questioned, her brow marring as a frown took over.

"Yeah. I want you in my life, and I miss you. So friends." God, this was hardly eloquent at all, and if you didn't give you some kind of indication as to what she was thinking you were going to go crazy. What had ever made you think this was such a good idea?

**Thirty six.**

"Only friends, though, right? Because, Santana, I can't keep-" Quinn began to explain, crossing her arms over her chest.

You knew her fears, you knew her worries because they had been yours, too. Could you only be friends with her? Could you resist that temptation? Yes, yes, if it meant she could be in your life again, properly.

"Only friends. Nothing will happen. I won't do anything to jeopardise your secret." She seemed to think over your words as she bit her bottom lip in concentration. God, she looked fantastic. "Look, Q, if you don't want me in your life at all just say so I can be put out my misery."

**Seventy one.**

Right then, you felt like an animal that needed to be put down from too much suffering. She had the ability to heal you or destroy you. You needed to know which one it would be. You couldn't hold out for an answer because that would breed hope, and hope was such a dangerous thing to have when it concerned the one you loved.

"You make coming out seem worth it, and that terrifies me," Quinn admitted, her mask gone and her hazel eyes shining at you brightly. You had missed them, like always. Her confession hadn't fallen on deaf ears, though, and you feared that because of this you would never be a part of her life.

"So we can't even be friends?" you asked, needing to know, desperate to know.

**Seventy seven.**

"I'm not sure. Can we?" Quinn was looking at you, taking you in, and you hoped whatever she was seeing was giving her the answer you wanted to hear. If only she could understand how serious you were about making this work.

"I'll behave, I promise." You could behave, even if it killed you.

**Eighty one.**

"It's not that I don't trust you, Santana. It's that I don't trust myself." Oh you knew how that was, because on a good day, you could barely trust yourself not to kiss her senseless. She needed you to keep your distance, though, to keep her secret hidden, so you did. You never trusted yourself with her, but the fact that she did made your heart soar.

"Can't we at least try?" you begged, not wanting to give up yet. "Just one chance, that's all I'm asking. Please."

**Ninety four. **

Quinn licked her lips as she thought it over, and you were sure she was going to say no. She was the one that stood to lose everything with this friendship. You really couldn't lose much more as you had already gone months without her in your life. So, when she opened her mouth to give you her answer, you steeled yourself for the worst.

"Okay, we can try," she whispered, her eyes looking up at the ceiling as if she couldn't believe what she'd just done. You waited a moment for her to take it back, and watched carefully to see any signs of her changing her mind but it never came.

Instead, Quinn chuckled under her breath and advanced towards you. She stopped a few feet from you, leaving enough space to be considered socially acceptable for friends and nothing more, and then gave you a shy little smile.

"I've missed you, too, by the way. I still do. My Friday nights just aren't the same." God, hearing that made you want to whine aloud. She could not be doing that, saying things like that, if this was to work.

Thankfully, her expression changed and you knew she wouldn't be making any more confessions like the ones she already had. Her mask was slowly going back up, and you bade farewell to your favourite hazel eyes.

"Wait, your words?" she asked, looking at you in confusion. Clearly, she had been paying attention, and that thought had your heart doing backflips in your chest. Stupid thing.

"They're coming back." You smiled softly and bit your lip, shrugging. Hopefully, she wasn't going to ask you much about it, because you really had no clue why they were. You weren't questioning it, though, because without them coming back, you'd never have been able to have this conversation with her. They were helping you move forward.

**Ninety seven.**

"That's great!" She shot you a genuine smile and nodded, pleased for you. And she looked it, she looked sincere about it. That, that right there was what you'd been missing, what you wanted.

"Yeah, it is," you replied, nodding back at her.

**One hundred. **

She may have meant your words, and you sort of did, too, but really, you meant the bigger picture. You two were trying to be friends, you were trying to be a part of each other's lives without the compilations. Your words could do what they wanted, they normally did, that was something you couldn't change, but that right there with Quinn, you had changed that, you had moved things forward.

Whether it was going to lead you to more heartache in the future, you didn't know, but all you could think with her smiling at you like that was that it would be worth it. She always was worth it, hence why you always found yourself in these types of situations, risking so much for her.

At least now, you were in her life, rather than staring at it from afar, wistfully.

*0*0*


	13. Chapter 13: Listening

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Listening

*0*0*

You were still running on you high from agreeing to be friends with Quinn yesterday, that at first you didn't even notice. You were giddy, the excitement at finally being able to approach Quinn and talk to her when you wished now also causing you to feel queasy, and you didn't want to eat a single thing before school that Tuesday morning. You couldn't, you were sure you would bring it all back up at some point later if you weren't careful, so you weren't even going to take the risk.

Your father had other ideas, however.

"It's not healthy to skip meals, mija, so please, can you eat something before school?" he asked, rolling up his sleeves before opening the fridge. You sighed and shook your head, trying hard to save your words for later, but he was persistent. "Santana, the fridge won't carry the food to you, but if you ask politely, I might cook you something."

"I don't want anything," you gritted out, scowling at him. Why did he have to be so caring? Why did he have to be a good father?

"Nonsense. You may be back on the Cheerios, but that doesn't mean you have to stick to that horrible diet Coach Sylvester recommends." Tomás shook his head and rolled his eyes at the mention of the Coach, and you sighed even louder. He really was going to make you eat something; there was no way out of it.

Getting up from the kitchen table, you glided round him while he started throwing ingredients into a pan, and you pulled a carton of juice from the fridge. Waving it at him with a peachy smile, you saw him shake his head before pointing back at the fridge. Apparently, juice was not enough.

Great, just great. Your father was going to have you throwing up all over Quinn's shoes with the rate the butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. Parent of the year.

Opening the fridge once more, you pulled out a yogurt that you knew you would appease him, and took a seat back at the table. He watched you have a few mouthfuls before looking satisfied and went back to what he was cooking.

Moments later, you heard the familiar sound of your mother's heels on the landing as she came down the stairs, and you awaited her arrival.

"Morning!" she mother called, waltzing in, smiling brightly.

"Morning," you replied, returning her smile as best you could given the sour twist to your day. You could already feel your stomach churning, the nerves and excitement of seeing Quinn, talking to Quinn, getting the better of you.

Cocking your head to the side, you frowned and tuned out your parents. Talking to Quinn. Talking. It couldn't be…could it? Maybe you weren't hearing things correctly. Maybe you had just missed it.

"I'm going to…" you trailed off, rising from your seat and abandoning your food.

You could hear your parents discussing your departure, but that was all you could hear. They were talking, the pan was sizzling, the sound of your feet on the stairs as you ran up them, the pounding beat of your heart in your ears; that's all you could hear. That's all you had heard. Nothing else.

You had to be wrong.

Diving into your room, you shut the door behind you and paced the floor. You hadn't heard it. You hadn't heard a single thing. Nothing. You had spoken, given away your words, and there had been no voiceover, no repercussion, no tally of every word you said.

The creepy voiceover was gone.

What the fuck was going on?

Rushing to your desk, you hunted out your phone and dialled the first name that came to mind. She would know, or at least she would understand the significance of this moment. Hearing the phone ringing, you waited, your body practically vibrating off the bed. The second it answered, you spoke, needing to constantly clarify that you hadn't made this up.

"Rachel?" you asked, and then you waited, but still the voiceover refused to speak.

"Yes, Santana, that is who you called," Rachel's voice drawled, clearly unimpressed with your phone manner. Whatever, she could lecture you on it later; right now, you had important things to discuss.

"Look, I don't have time for your smartass retorts. I need you over here, right away." You needed to talk to her, face to face.

"What? Over where?" she asked, confused. Fighting extra hard to bite back the sarcastic retort you had worked up for that answer, you took a deep breath and replied.

"My house. I need you to come to my house, right now."

"We have school. I have Spanish!" she cried, not hearing the urgency in your voice.

"Skip it, please. I need you."

"Has something bad happened?" She practically whispered it down the phone, and you'd bet your inheritance on it that she was thinking of all the possible ways things could have fucked up for you.

"No, not bad, just please, can you come over?" You knew she could, you were really asking if she would. This would test her best friend status. By this point, if the conversation had been reversed and she was needing you to go over there, you would already be in your car.

"Are your parents still there? Because if they are-"

"They'll be gone in twenty minutes, tops," you replied, growing bored with her questions.

"You really owe me for this, because when my dads find out I've skipped Spanish, they're going to kill me." Yeah, and if they ever found out who she'd skipped with, they'd kill you, too. You were such a bad influence on their daughter. Shame that you didn't care.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise." And you would. You would break into the admin office and steal the test answers if she needed you to. Whatever to make it up to her. Though, knowing her, she would never want you to do that. Goody two shoes.

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty-five minutes. Can I park my car in your garage? I don't want my dads spotting it if they decide to take a detour on their way to work."

"Yeah, I'll leave it open and be waiting on you. Thanks."

"Despite all my whining, you are welcome, Santana. I'll see you then." Hanging up, you flopped back on your bed and sighed.

Twenty-five minutes; you had to now wait twenty-five minutes before you could talk about what was going on. And holy fuck, you could actually talk now! Hell, you just had an entire phone conversation, which was something you never could do!

Grinning to yourself, you headed back downstairs and made up for the lost time with your parents. They had noticed your sudden quietness, but both had put it down to teenage angst. They were half-right, you guessed. Now that you could speak to them properly, though, you didn't want to waste any time.

Only when they said they had to leave in case they were going to be late, did you not you had filled twenty minutes catching up with them, and Rachel was going to be there any minute. Knowing her like you did, she'd probably arrive in exactly five, on the dot, which did mean getting your parents out the door in time.

Making sure they had all their keys and their bags, you promised to lock the house and be out in time for school, feeling slightly bad for that half-truth, before they left. Checking your phone one last time, you headed to the garage and opened it for Rachel to drive right in at, which she did.

You gave her a thankful smile and shut the garage doors just in case her dads did drive by and see the car in there. Welcoming her in, you motioned for Rachel to follow, and the two of you made your way through the house.

She had only been there one or two times before, both very brief, and you could see her slyly looking round the place. You'd give her the tour later if she wanted, but right now you had things to be discussing.

"So what's the big news?" Rachel asked, following you into the living room and taking a seat next to you.

"How many words do you think I've said today?"

"What?" she frowned, and you saw her ponder you question in confusion. "A hell of a lot more than fifty. Even with the fluctuations, today's word usage so far is very much above the averages you've experienced so far. What's going on?"

"I can't hear it," you said, unable to fight the smile away.

"The voiceover?" Rachel sat forward on the couch, eager to hear your answer.

"Yep. It's gone."

"Oh my gosh, Santana, that's fantastic! You're back, you have your words back!" She was grinning at you, so pleased, and you nodded in response, a little shocked still with this turn of events. "You can do whatever you want now, say whatever you want! If you want to go all Lima Heights on someone's ass, you can! Oh, if you want to spit venomous remarks at your fellow peers, you can! And best of all, you can now sing in Glee!"

Laughing along with her, you nodded and dropped back into the couch. She was right, everything she had said was correct. You could do all those things. Surprisingly, though, you didn't want to spit venomous remarks at people, nor did you want to go Lima Heights on someone's ass.

These past months, without your words, they had been hard, dreadful in some aspects. But you got through it. You made it through the crap without hurting others, without tearing them down and destroying their self-esteem. So, why would you want to go back to that? Why would you want to return to what was once your default state? You were better now, happier now, you didn't need that side of you anymore.

Okay, yes, you probably wouldn't give up the insults completely, and sure, there was bound to be a time when you would go Lima Heights on someone, but it didn't have to be an everyday thing. No, you now knew you could survive McKinley without it, just like you'd survived without your Cheerio's uniform.

You were actually a lot stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for. And a major part of that, you noted, was the girl sitting next to you. Without her, you would have fallen under the crippling pressure of McKinley and surely gone insane. Rachel had eased that burden, and set you on the right tracks.

As if sensing you were about to say something, Rachel stopped rattling on about all the things you could now say or do, and waited. She raised her eyebrows in question, and you shrugged before finally speaking.

"I haven't really had the words before now, but I have tried to thank you. And I guess, I want to thank you again." You saw her open her mouth to protest, but you stopped her with a quick shake of your head. "Seriously, Rach, you have no idea how much you've helped me. So, thank you, for being there for me, and for looking out for me."

"You have to stop thanking me, I've not done anything worth thanking me for, Santana."

"I beg to differ."

"Regardless, I appreciate your thanks. Now, have you told Brittany and Quinn yet? I really think it's important they know."

"Not yet, I wanted to tell you first." Rachel gave you a soft smile before looking away, biting her lip and taking a deep breath.

"Well, are you going to tell them at school? Or are you going to rope them into skipping, too? However, it might be a bit late for that," she mused, glancing at the clock on the mantel to check.

"No, I can tell them later."

"Do you know what you're going to do with Quinn now?"

"I'm going to stick to the plan. Right now, we're just going to try and be friends. I can't risk that. I don't want to push things with her, just in case I push too far and she runs."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, it won't be easy. God, it's going to fucking suck. But, I guess I can do it. I mean, how hard can it be? At least now, I can talk to her properly, that counts for something. Can I do this?" you asked, sort of hoping Rachel could tap into her psychic abilities and tell you if you were going to screw it up.

"Remember what I said about selfless love? Well, this is time to put that to the test. You can't afford to jeopardise this friendship because you're still in love with her," Rachel said, glancing away from you before continuing. "It is possible to love someone from afar, Santana, and while it is a hopelessly painful experience, it can be done. If nothing comes of Quinn, because she can't come out and can only offer you friendship, you will move on, eventually."

"And what if I don't want to move on? What if she's it?" You didn't like the thought of moving on, but she did have a point. Quinn might never want to be out and open about her sexuality.

"If she's it, if she's your soul mate, then I would say you need to make every effort to be her friend, regardless of how difficult that might be. You need to prepare yourself for the times where she'll inadvertently break your heart but be looking for you to smile at her news, rather than cry. You need to ask yourself if she's worth it, because you could go on to be happy with someone else, but you can't settle for someone else if you do still love Quinn."

"I only want her." Every fibre of your being wanted her, loved her, adored her. There could be no one else, not any time soon. Losing her would destroy you.

"And next year, when we're all at different colleges?" Rachel asked curiously. She was being your sense of reason right then, and you couldn't be annoyed at the reality check she was giving you. Just because you had your words back didn't mean everything would get better. There was still a long road ahead.

"I'll still want her, just then I'll be a broke college student pining for a girl in another state." That sounded about right.

"Do you know where she's applying?"

"Her first choice is Yale." Of course it was. She was a freaking genius, phenomenal at almost everything she did. Why wouldn't she pick one of the best schools in the country?

"And are you going to apply there, or have you already?" You could see Rachel looking at you with worry, and you almost wanted to thank her again for caring so much. It was clear she didn't want you to throw away your plans for the future on one girl, even if that girl was Quinn.

"No, Yale's not for me."

"Well, that's something," Rachel muttered, pursing her lips in thought. You were pretty sure she hadn't meant for you to hear her.

"What?" You raised your eyebrows in question, fighting off a smile at how relieved she looked.

"You're not following her like a lovesick puppy. I'd hate to see you put your hopes and dreams aside for hers." She shrugged, and this time you did send her a thankful smile, reaching out and giving her hand a squeeze.

"Going to Yale won't do me any good. If anything, it would probably make things worse. If we were only friends, I'd have to see her around campus with her beard or something, and that would be torture. No, I'm going to just stick with my original choices for college and if anything further happens with me and Quinn, we can cross that bridge when we come to it."

"You already have your choices?" You nodded and she enquired further, curious to know where you applied.

"NYU, Columbia, Louisville because they have a pretty kickass cheerleading squad and I think I could rock that, and Princeton. Thank God I'm a trust fund baby."

"You're applying to New York?" Rachel asked, sitting up a little straighter.

"Yeah, after being there for Nationals, I guess it grew on me."

"You know I'm also going to New York, right?" she wondered, biting her bottom lip.

"Yep, I know." You smiled coyly at her and she shook her head, laughing.

"We're going to be in New York together." You could see the excitement in her, and you waved your hands in disagreement, not wanting her to jump the gun.

"If I get in, that is. I might end up Louisville or maybe head to Princeton." Pft, that was unlikely, but still.

"But your first choice?" She looked to be waiting on tenterhooks for your reply.

"Columbia." That seemed to be the correct answer, as she gave you her show smile.

"We're going to New York together!" she said happily, clapping her hands excitedly.

Apparently, there was no telling Rachel otherwise, she was convinced you both would get in, and seemed very pleased with the news. You were too, actually. Yeah, you had known she was applying there. You would be surprised if anyone didn't know given how often she told people about her dream to be on Broadway. And okay, maybe that had influenced your decision slightly, as you weren't going to apply to NYU, but whatever.

New York was a big place, and yeah, you maybe wanted to have one familiar face around if you moved there. The fact that it would be her made everything better.

*0*0*

Rachel and you eventually made it into school. You had skipped the morning talking about all the things you both had wanted to talk about but couldn't due to your voiceover. It was great to hang out with her properly, to tease her endlessly, without the possibility of it being over in minutes. However, good things had to come to an end and school was calling. The two of you had to at least make an appearance otherwise your parents would be called.

Thankfully, you knew how to forge your father's signature rather well, and managed to provide two different, and totally believable doctor's notes. Yes, if anyone found out, you were going to be in serious shit, but that was not the case. Rachel wasn't going to rat on you, that was for sure.

Within minutes of being in the building, and passing on your doctor's notes to the appropriate, and separate, staff members, you were pounced on by one bubbly blonde. Brittany was grinning at the both of you, clearly pleased to see you, and stopped just a few feet away to talk.

"Hey! Where have you guys been? You missed Spanish, Rachel, so I took notes." Reaching into her bag, Britt pulled out a set of papers and handed them over; all the while Rachel stood frowning.

"I didn't think you were in my Spanish class, Brittany."

"I'm not, but I saw you weren't here and Spanish is a lot more fun than Maths. I'm practically bilingual thanks to Santana. It was easy. I even took your test for you, but I guess, if you want to take it again, you can. Was that okay? I put your name on it and everything. Mr. Schue didn't even notice you weren't there."

"Oh…no, Brittany, that's great. Thank you for that, and for the notes. I will be sure to look over them."

"Great! So where were you? Was Santana helping you become bilingual, too? I thought you were doing that with Quinn," Brittany mused, turning to you in question.

"No!" you barked, hoping to shut that conversation down as soon as possible. "No, Britt-Britt, Rach and I were just at my house, talking. My words came back." You gave her a smile and she lit up.

"Your words are back? That's awesome! Can I now have your number cards? I'm trying to teach Lord Tubbington to count, but he's not very good." You practically felt Rachel beam at the prospect of these cards working. She was still convinced Lord T was deaf.

"Yeah, of course you can." Nodding, you led them to your locker and handed said cards over before changing your books; you did have to actually attend some classes that day, after all.

Squealing happily, Brittany gave you a tight hug, and then Rachel one. She laughed and returned it, thanking her once again for the notes. You hid your smile at that, knowing if Rachel knew the true extent of Brittany's Spanish skills she'd be thankful her for a lot more. Keeping that gem to yourself, you prepared for next class, only to stop when Brittany clapped excitedly.

"You know what, sleepover, this weekend at mine to celebrate your words coming back, San! My parents will be away, and we can hang out together as a group, we can even invite Quinn! How awesome does that sound?"

The two of you nodded, catching Britt's cheery mood. You were very pleased to be spending more time with Quinn, and just the mere thought had you grinning, and you noticed even Rachel didn't seem put off with the idea.

Hearing the bell ring, Rachel bid you goodbye and went to fetch her books, while you closed your locker and perused the corridor for Quinn. You were hoping to catch her before this class, as you were sure you wouldn't see her at lunch, but she didn't seem to be around.

Sadly, the rest of the day remained the same. Quinn was nowhere to be found, and you did wonder if she had actually come in that day. Inquiring at lunch, Brittany informed you that she was there this morning, which made your heart heavy.

Maybe she'd changed her mind about being friends. Maybe she couldn't do it.

The high you had been running off died out, and the following day, you felt like nothing had truly changed. You thought this would affect things slightly, turning the tables in your favour, but apparently not.

On Thursday, you were all but convinced she was avoiding you, and while on your way to meet Rachel and Brittany for lunch, that thought changed. At first, you thought she was motioning someone else over, but looking round, it was most definitely you. And like usual, when Quinn wanted you, you went running.

"Yeah?" you asked, coming to stand closer.

Quinn had been standing in the doorway of an empty classroom, and when you came over, she moved inside, wanting you to follow. You did so, to which she shut the door behind you. That was a little surprising, and you raised your eyebrows in question, wondering what the hell was going on.

"I freaked out," she began, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

"You freaked out," you repeated, wanting to make sure you had heard that correctly.

"I thought about us being friends, and I freaked. We can't just be friends, that's not us, not anymore. But then, I realised that I need you in my life, and God, you just wanted a shot. So, I'm sorry for hiding from you. Friends don't do that, and we're friends now." It sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you, which was probably true.

"You don't _have_ to be my friend, Quinn." You wanted to give her an out if she needed it.

"I wanted to be, I need to be," she replied, stepping closer.

You were sitting on the edge of the teacher's desk, your legs swinging slightly as she advanced. She stood next to you, her hands reaching out to play with the items on the desk next to you, close enough for you to smell her intoxicating scent and fall back into the memories.

"I accepted Brittany's invitation to her house this weekend, and I hope we can work on being friends again, there. It can be just like it used to between the three of us, with Rachel there, too." She frowned at that and then shrugged. "I didn't ruin this, did I?"

"No, you didn't." She couldn't. She'd never be able to ruin this because you would always allow her back in, accept her apologies, and hope for the best.

"Good." She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip again, and you fought every instinct telling you to get her to stop that.

"My words came back," you said, hoping that would control your urge to kiss her. Quinn looked at you in surprised and then smiled, chuckling under her breath.

"Really? That's great! Congrats, how did you manage that?"

"I have no idea, they just were there all of a sudden. No voiceover, no word limit."

"Back to your old self."

"Better than my old self," you corrected. "My old self would never have told you that I-" you let your sentence hang unsure whether you should repeat those words, and Quinn nodded in understanding.

"No, she wouldn't have. She would have pretended we never even happened, and I never would have heard you say those three important little words." A nostalgic look came over her features, and she wiped it away when she shook her head. "I like this version better."

"Me too."

Putting some distance between the two of you, Quinn stepped back and opened the door.

"So, I'll see you around? I have to go speak to the baby Cheerios, and you need to have lunch."

"Yeah, of course. See you around." Giving you a wave, Quinn was gone, just like that.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts before making a move yourself, but you there was a lightness to your thoughts now. She'd freaked out, and yet, she came back to you. She needed this friendship as much as you did. Surely that said something.

Plus, you had this weekend. Grinning at the thought, you headed off to meet Rachel and Brittany. It had been months, but finally, you were getting to spend quality time with your three closest friends. They all meant different things to you, but were all equally important. Hanging out with them all together was just going to make things even better.

*0*0*

Apparently, you had seriously misunderstood the situation. If you had known Brittany's sleepover was going to turn out like this, you would have faked an illness and hid at home. It wasn't Brittany's fault, this was an unforeseen circumstance, one you were all having to adapt to.

For a brief moment, it had looked like Rachel wasn't going to attend, and now you kinda wished that had been the case. Brittany would have cancelled the sleepover without her, and in turn, that would have given you all time to fix this problem.

Due to Brittany's amazing Spanish skills, however, Rachel was allowed to attend. Her dads had seen no problem granting permission, even though they knew you were attending. Whatever. Rachel was actually shocked when her Spanish test came back with an A grade, and felt guilty about accepting it, but after much convincing from Brittany, she finally let it go.

Now you wished she hadn't.

Sandwiched in between Quinn and Rachel, you sat unamused, while Brittany grinned at you from the couch opposite. She had said all of you need to hand out properly, now that you were all friends, but quite frankly, you bonded well enough with the lot of them.

Okay, yes, this new, tentative, friendship you had going on with Quinn needed some work, but you were never going to get anywhere while Rachel was around. Those two were oil and water, and that was the problem.

They didn't know how to talk to each other. They didn't know how to even look at each other. It was a mess. Brittany didn't seem to mind one bit, but you were feeling the tension in the air, and were already exhausted having to play middle man.

Glancing to your right, you saw Rachel folding her hands in her lap, her gaze firmly on the coffee table, and you knew she wanted out there as much as you did. Glancing to your left, you confirmed that Quinn was no doubt thinking the same thing, eager to leave as soon as possible. Which meant, the only person who wanted to be there was Brittany, beaming brightly before you as the silence grew between the four of you.

"I'm glad we could all make it, tonight. I think it's a great idea for us to hang out now that we're all friends," she said, winking at you.

You wanted to point out Rachel and Quinn weren't friends, and probably never would be, but then Brittany would force that issue and Christ, you couldn't be dealing with that. It seemed best if you could avoid the two of them ever having to talk with each other. You only had to ensure this happened for the next twenty four hours, and that wasn't too hard, surely.

Well, within minutes of saying that, an argument had broken out between them, and you excused yourself to get a glass of water. It was not a great start. You didn't even know how things had gone from idle chatter to the bickering, but whatever, it was not your problem anymore. Brittany had taken over, and you knew she'd sort it out.

Heading into her kitchen, you knew exactly where you were going and fetched a glass before using pouring some water into it and adding ice. You just wanted something to clear your head, but as you looked at your drink selection, you knew you had probably been spending too much time with Rachel. The girl always had water when something was upsetting her, and god, if that hadn't just gone and rubbed off on you.

You'd need to point that out to her later.

Realising it was rather rude of you to leave without offering to get anyone else a drink, you headed back next door, only to stop at the sound of your name. They were talking about you. Creeping forward, you hid next to the open door, completely out of sight, and listened in.

God, you knew you shouldn't have, but you were curious. You wanted to know how Brittany was going to accomplish this task, and you were interested as to why your name had come up. Yeah, you knew Quinn was a little jealous of your friendship with Rachel, but you had already told her she had nothing to worry about. You were in love with her, what was the big deal with Rachel?

Keeping quiet, you heard Quinn mutter something before Brittany started speaking again, and you took notice. She always could command a situation when she needed to, and this felt like the right time.

"It's about time you two formed a truce, for Santana's sake. She can't be friends with the both of you if you're ripping each other's heads off," Brittany explained, a slight strain in her voice.

"Actually, I was not the one who started-" Rachel began to say, and you smiled and rolled your eyes, just picturing her interrupting.

"Oh grow up, Berry. Placing the blame on me is not going to get you off-"

"Quinn, that is not what I am doing at all, thank you very much. I'm merely pointing out-"

"Trying to save your skin, more like it. Heaven forbid Santana know what you're really after-" Quinn argued, sounding disgusted. That had you frowning. Geez, they were like cat and dog once you were out the way.

"I have told you time and time again in regards to that particular accusation, and I will-"

"Just admit it. Admit it and I'll drop it." You knew what Quinn was asking, and you couldn't help but shake your head. She wasn't giving up on that, and it was completely foolish of her. Rachel had already denied it.

"There is nothing to admit!" Rachel cried, her voice rising slightly. You could hear Brittany cooing something, most likely trying to calm her down. They didn't know you were outside the door, so it made sense to keep quiet.

"Yes, there is. You like her." Quinn was armament, and this situation didn't seem close to being resolved at all.

"She's my best friend," Rachel stressed, and you could hear how tired she was of saying this.

"But that's not all she is."

"Good God, Quinn, what do you want me to say?"

"Just admit that you have feelings for her?" Quinn barked, that all too familiar tone making the hair on your neck stand on end.

"She is my best friend."

"Stop lying, for God's sake, Berry. Just come clean."

"Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Why won't you admit it?" Quinn asked, exasperated.

"There is nothing to admit."

"Liar!"

"You're delusional," Rachel said, sounding bored now. She was giving up, tired of the fight, from the sounds of it.

"Why? Because I can see what's right in front of me? Because I know you like her and don't want to admit it? What is up with that? Why are you so against coming clean, huh? Just admit it, you like her as more than a friend! Stop lying already!"

"For God's sake, Quinn! What do you want me to say, that I like her romantically? Then fine, yes, I do. I like her, I like her a lot, but she's in love with you and is doing everything in her power not to mess that up. And in return, I'm ignoring my feelings to make sure she is happy, to make sure I never cross that line and ruin things. She's my best friend, and I will not sacrifice her friendship for a moment of pure insanity. So are you happy? Has that made you feel better?"

The silence was deafening, and you swallowed nervously. Christ, you knew you weren't meant to hear that. You knew that was the last thing Rachel would ever want you knowing. Taking a shaky breath, you heard Brittany murmur something and decided to vacate the area just in case one of them saw you.

Rachel would freak out if she was aware you knew, and you didn't want that. Her words rang true, she wasn't going to cross that line, she would never. Your chest ached at the thought of how she must be feeling all the time, but you pushed it away and focused on composing yourself properly. The next time you saw her, you had to make sure you didn't give the game away.

That was harder than you thought it would be, but you needed to try. Gulping down your water, suddenly very thirsty, you took a seat at the kitchen counter and recollected your thoughts.

This was fine. You could easily pretend you'd never heard their conversation, Rachel's confession. She most likely hadn't meant it, you thought, given how much pressure Quinn was putting on her to admit it. In those situations, she'd likely say anything to get her to stop. That didn't explain all the other things, the small things, going on between the two of you, but she'd never crossed the line.

You had to give her credit, if she did care about you romantically, she had done a very good job hiding it. You were obviously pining over Quinn, left, right and centre. Yet, you wouldn't really have given it much thought if it hadn't been for Quinn's jealousy.

Hearing the sound of their footsteps growing near, you took another drink and gave them a smile as they entered. Quinn came in first, looking slightly worn out, but she returned your smile and joined you at the counter. Rachel was next, and if you hadn't known her so well, you would have missed the sadness she was trying to hide. And then there was Brittany, who grinned back at you as if nothing had happened, and came to steal a sip of your water.

"We should play a game, a board game!" Brittany cried, rapping her hands on the counter to the beat of her own song. "That sound good?"

"Yeah, that sound great, Britt. I love board games," Rachel replied, picking herself up after whatever had gone down next door after you'd stopped listening. You wanted to hug her, but were now unsure if that was the right thing to do. That in itself was probably the reason Rachel never wanted you knowing how she felt. You had to stop second guessing yourself.

Reaching over, you pulled her cardigan and dragged her near. She came willingly and smiled when you gave her a one-armed hug, still facing Brittany. The two of them continued their board game discussion before electing to go pick one out, and you and Quinn were to come through when ready.

Brittany obviously knew something was up, like she always did, and was giving you space. Masterful, that one was.

Rachel and her left the room moments later, and you wasted no time plucking up the courage to just say what needed to be said. Quinn was unaware you'd heard their conversations, so in her eyes, you were still running away from their conflict. Well, that had to stop. You needed her to know you weren't okay with the fighting.

"Lay off her."

"What?" Quinn looked to you, confused at first, but then realisation hit.

"Lay off her. I know you think you know something, leave it alone." God only knows what agreement they'd all come to, but you wanted to make your stance very clear.

"Santana-"

"I want to be friends, but I can't do that if you keep attacking her." You couldn't. Rachel had been there for you when Quinn wasn't. Rachel had believed in you when Quinn wouldn't listen. It was obvious to you that Rachel was the one you could completely rely on, not Quinn. If that meant picking sides, you would. You'd hate doing it, but if you had to, you would.

"She likes you," Quinn said, shaking her head, as if those words made a huge difference. They didn't.

"So what?"

Quinn's silence said it all as she looked away. You could see her bottling up all her emotions and throwing it away. You could see her pulling up her defences and fighting every fibre of her being to say what she was thinking. She was scared. She was scared you were going to move on, leave her behind, and she couldn't do anything about it if you did. She couldn't fight for you if Rachel made a move, because she couldn't be out.

"If you think I could get over you that easily, you're a fool," you whispered, reaching for her hand and entwining her fingers in yours.

She gave a shaky smile, her eyes cast up to the ceiling as she fought of tears, and you struggled to maintain the safe distance between your bodies. A friend could give their other friend a hug in comfort, but you knew if you were to close that distance it would be so much more than a friendly hug. It would be a lover's embrace.

"Let's get back, huh?"

Nodding, Quinn wiped the stray tears from her cheeks and gave your hand a squeeze before taking her hand back. Wiping down her top and skirt, she composed herself so no one would be the wiser, and strode away with her head held high.

You followed, like usual, biting back a sigh.

Why couldn't your friends just be friends with each other? Yes, the situation was complicated and messy, but it was manageable. You all had the same interests at heart, you all wanted to be friends with at least two of the other three, so why couldn't everything work out?

Making one final prayer, you headed towards the noise and hoped for a better night ahead. You wanted things to improve. You wanted everything to work out before the year broke all of you apart, and you didn't want to have to divide your time between each of them just because they couldn't get on.

With your word limit gone, you now had the ability to demand, and plead, beg that they listen to you. Whether they actually did was an entirely different matter however. Apparently, it didn't matter how many words you had if the person you said them too didn't want to hear them.

You could only hope the three girls in the living room were not like that.

*0*0*


	14. Chapter 14: Actions Speak Louder

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Actions Speak Louder Than Words

*0*0*

Entering the living room, you saw the three girls standing around, Quinn having just entered the mix, and raised your eyebrows in question when Brittany caught your eye. There was still a weird atmosphere among the lot of you, and you knew it was going to be around for a while.

"Rachel and I have picked Taboo," Brittany said, pulling out the box from the living room game cupboard. "It's a team game, and I think it's only fair we pick names out a hat."

You frowned at their choice and the need to pick names out a hat, but weren't going to argue. There had already been enough arguments that evening. With that decision made, Brittany went to get pen and paper for the names, while Rachel began setting things up.

Looking at Quinn, you watched as she took a seat in the armchair, close enough to be involved but segregated enough to keep herself to herself. She was clearly still hurting from everything that had gone down that evening, and you fought off the feeling of guilt. She had brought a lot of it on herself by pushing with Rachel, and excuses could no longer be made for her behaviour.

Helping Rachel set up the game on the coffee table, you sat down on the floor next to her, both leaning back against the couch. You could see Quinn watching the two of you, a slight worry line forming, before she looked out the window. Rachel had seen it too, and nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. Where the hell was Brittany when you needed her?

The silence was growing, and you could feel the tension in the air. Despite not knowing what the two of them had said to each other after you had stopped eavesdropping, you were sure it had been a tense trading of words with no resolution. As always, you were caught in the middle, and every move you made was being scrutinised by Quinn, or second guessed by Rachel.

It was tiring, and a part of you wondered how long you needed to stick around before you could fake being tired and head to bed. You didn't want to ditch on Brittany, but this was meant to be a relaxing night, and it was turning out to be nothing of the sort, for anyone involved.

With the sound of Brittany heading back towards the living room, you pushed those thoughts away and decided just to go with the flow for now. You had to make the best of this situation, even if it wasn't to your liking.

"So, who wants to pick?" Brittany asked, holding the winter woolly hat in one hand. "Only one of us can pick, since it'll be two teams of two and there are four of us." Looking between everyone, Brittany waited for a response before playfully rolling her eyes. "It's sweet that all of you are letting me pick. Thanks guys," she said, reaching in the hat and rustling the sheets about.

As if realising the power Brittany held as she rustled the pieces of paper, all of you suddenly took interest in what was going on. You watched with a smile, trying to mask the nerves peaking beneath the surface. You weren't the only one. Rachel was biting her lip, and Quinn's eyes were glued to Brittany's hand. She was inadvertently going to decide who ended up with whom.

"Santana!" Brittany cried, showing the paper to everyone.

"Wait, what?" Rachel asked, shooting a questioning look at Brittany and then looking at the piece of paper again. Quinn was doing something similar, her mouth open, ready to protest.

"You and Quinn are on the same team. It's great! You guys can bond and get to know each other better. You don't even need to worry about winning, because Santana is ace at this," Brittany explained, putting the piece of paper back in the hat and taking it out into the hallway.

"Is she really?" Quinn drawled, raising her eyebrow at you. You swallowed nervously under her gaze, wondering why it sounded like you'd done something wrong.

"Yep!" Brittany was still oblivious to the looks you were receiving. "She holds the record of most correct answers in the time limit. It took her three years to get it, as the previous record holder was Lord Tubbington, and I think he cheated. Santana didn't though."

No, you hadn't cheated, but looking at the faces of the blonde and brunette across from you, you wished you had. You knew right then they were going to try and annihilate your record, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. If anything would bring the two of them together, it was bound to be their competitive nature.

"Well, I'm sure Quinn and I can give you a run for your money," Rachel said, nodding her head. You shot her an 'as if' smile, and she frowned, unimpressed with you.

"Let's make this more interesting," Quinn said, moving close to inspect the rules.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Rachel asked, turning to the blonde curiously.

They were talking to each other, actually talking, not yelling. You were holding your breath, too scared to move in case it ended. This was a tiny breakthrough, and you were not going to risk ruining it by breathing.

"Alcohol."

"_You_ wish to add alcohol into the mix?" Rachel questioned, a little startled.

"What's that meant to mean?" Quinn narrowed her eyes, and you almost whimpered. They had been talking, all had been going well, you hadn't even moved, why was it now going wrong?

"I just am surprised you would want to, given your past experiences with it." Rachel shrugged and looked away, while your eyes flew back to Quinn to see her reaction.

"Well, unless one of you is hiding a penis I don't know about, I don't think I'll have to worry about getting knocked up tonight." Quinn raised one of her eyebrows in challenge, and Rachel narrowed her eyes in return.

It was tense again, the moment hadn't lasted. They were both testing the other, Rachel just daring Quinn to call her something offensive in regards to her gender, and Quinn taunting Rachel to call her out on it.

"I think alcohol would be a great idea!" Brittany said, dragging you by the arm towards to the study.

You went willingly and helped her carry the bottles back through. On return, you saw Rachel and Quinn sitting opposite each other, ready and waiting to play. There was no blood on the carpet, no obvious signs of violence, but it felt like you'd just walked in during the middle of a fight.

Brittany flitted past you and handed out shot glasses and took a seat next to Rachel. She pulled her body closer, wrapping her arm over Rachel's shoulders all the while using her free hand to pour the drinks.

Sitting down next to Quinn, you placed the bottles to the side and gave her a smile. It was a slightly nervous smile, as you were anxious about being that close to her again after everything so far that evening, but she returned it.

The sadness you saw in her eyes in the kitchen was still there, buried beneath the surface, but she also looked hopeful, and in turn, that gave you hope. Maybe things weren't going to be so bad.

"Okay, every time you get one wrong, you take a shot, every time you pass, you take a shot, and if you get it right, no shots for you. We'll tally after each go to see how many you need to drink. Agreed?" Brittany asked, looking round everyone.

There were no disagreements, and with that, the game was on its way.

*0*0*

All of you drinking together might have seemed like a smart way to ease the tension, but it was slowly turning into the worst idea ever. For starters, Rachel was a total lightweight, and adorable as fuck all tipsy. Then there was Brittany, who actually didn't seem inebriated at all. Quinn was chilled out, her defences down, those hazel eyes burning you every time you caught her looking at you, and it was driving you wild.

With all that going on around you, there was no way anyone could expect you to be in control of the emotions bubbling up beneath the surface. You weren't crying, thank fuck, but you knew if Rachel and Quinn started fighting again, you would not be able to handle it. You'd snap, you're probably say things you'd regret, and there would be no way to keep your eavesdropping to yourself.

Brittany seemed to be taking care of that, however, as she was constantly entertaining one of them in conversation. The game itself had been abandoned after it was clear Brittany and you were destroying them. Quinn and Rachel had put some good effort into it, but Brittany and yourself had mastered how to read each other properly years ago.

A rematch had been demanded by Rachel to take place at a later date after thorough training, and surprisingly, Quinn was all for it. That night was just going to be hell, you knew it.

However, the situation at hand was more pressing.

Rachel and Brittany was having a very detailed conversation about Lord Tubbington's upbringing, and you knew Rachel was trying to assess the situation to see if he really could be deaf. That meant Quinn and you were sitting staring either into space or at each other.

Each other was the more popular option.

Watching Quinn lick her lips once again, you were mesmerised. Whether she was meaning to or not, she was bewitching you with her gaze, and giving your flashbacks of Friday nights spent kissing those lips, watching those eyes turn heady with lust, and listen to her pant and whine in your ear.

You needed to clear your head. The booze had made it fuzzy, had made things complicated, and you couldn't think properly. She was your kryptonite, your weakness, and right then, you needed to remind yourself that she was off limits. She was your friend.

Excusing yourself to get a glass of water, you headed back to the kitchen. The sound of footsteps behind you shouldn't have been surprising. You should have known she would follow. To actually have her following you for a change, brought a smile to your face, but it was short lived.

With your back to the door, you stood at the sink, glass in hand, and your other hand on the tap. Her footsteps grew nearer, and you placed the glass down, not wanting to drop it if she did in fact do what you suspected she would. It didn't take long for your suspicions to come true.

Feeling her stand behind you, you felt her hands land on your hips at the same time her lips were on your neck. She was licking at your skin, kissing it softly, as she worked her way up to your jaw. You were powerless, those hands caressing your skin, as if trying to memorise the feel of your body beneath her hands, and those lips devouring your neck.

"Friends," you croaked, dropping your head forward as her hands crossed over your abdomen and ran up your thighs. You needed to hold onto that last shred of dignity. You needed to at least pretend to be against this.

"This is just a friendly reminder of what we're missing out on," Quinn husked, her nails scraping against your skin as they ran upwards, pulling your dress up with them.

"What you're missing out on," you replied, shaking your head. "You could have me if you wanted."

"I do, I do want you." Ugh, if that didn't make you feel alive, just hearing it; but there was so much more to everything than that.

Her lips reattached themselves to your neck, and she swiped her tongue over your skin a few times before sucking harshly, marking you, making you moan in shock. Fuck.

"Not enough," you groaned, trying to find the willpower to step away from her. "You get off on it being a secret, of keeping your dirty deeds from the world." Her lips pulled away from your neck, and you felt her breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"And you don't get off knowing you can have me begging on my hands and knees; _me_, the perfect little Christian." The mental image, the memories, the nights spent with her doing just that, flashed behind your eyelids as you swallowed nervously.

"I do, fuck do I ever. But do you know what I'd get off to even more?"

"What?" She sounded genuinely interested, but you knew that wasn't going to last.

"Having that perfect, little, Christian treat me as her equal, her girlfriend, and not just a dirty little secret she screws behind closed doors." As if a bucket of cold water had been thrown on her, Quinn's hands stopped moving, and her whole body stilled behind you.

"We're friends. We are equal." The huskiness and breathy tone she was using previously was gone, and she sounded scared, unsure, as she spoke.

"I thought so, too, but yet here you are, hands up dress and lips on my skin. What's equal about that? Where's my respect? You know I want you, you know I love you, and yet you don't respect the one boundary I have."

Quinn remained speechless, as if frozen in that moment, realising what exactly she was doing, what pain she might be causing you. You ploughed on, needing to get this out, needing to draw the lines that had been ignored for so long.

Turning in her arms, you leant back against the sink and took her in. She looked like a dear in headlights, ready to make a break for it at any moment. Before she could do that, you wanted to finish, you wanted to talk to her about this.

"I get it, you're losing control. I can see it in your eyes," you said quietly, not needing to add volume to your voice as your words did that on their own.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Quinn replied, those beautiful hazels startled and strained. You were hitting a nerve, one she wasn't prepared for.

"Yes, I do. It's amazing what someone does when they think they're losing a game they used to play."

Quinn took a step back, suddenly. Her mouth opened and you expected her to yell or shout, but instead, she shook her head, her brow furrowed, and tried to catch the breath you'd just knocked out of her from that last statement.

"Losing? Losing what?" she asked, sounding sad and tired.

"Me. Rachel's a threat, and by coming in here, kissing me, marking my skin, you're laying claim; claim you no longer have anymore."

"I thought you said she meant nothing." The fear flashing in her eyes again made your chest ache, but it was time for a proper reality check.

"She's my best friend, that doesn't mean she's nothing to me. She's a loyal, trust worthy, honest friend who respects my boundaries and choices."

"I can try- I will-" Quinn said quickly, her hands up in defeat, shaking her head as she spoke, no doubt fearing the worst from this conversation. You held up your hand to stop her, cutting her short and took a moment to recollect your thoughts.

"Something I've learnt recently, actions do speak louder than words. Maybe you should give that some thought."

Quinn nodded once, solemnly, and ran a hand through her hair.

"Don't make me regret this, please," you begged, hoping she'd pull herself together soon. There was only so much heartache you could take.

Those hazels you had been desperately hoping to see avoided you in shame, and she nodded again, this time not attempting to stop the tears forming. It was time for you to take your leave, but you couldn't go without showing her you still cared, you still wanted her, despite all the fights and arguments.

Stepping closer, you wrapped your hands around her, hugging her, and took a second to breathe her in. She still had it, the power to stop your heart and make you feel invincible. She didn't even have to hug you back to make you feel amazing. Feeling her head drop onto your shoulder, her hands grasping at the fabric of your dress in desperation, made you embrace her a little tighter.

She was falling to pieces, fraying at the seams, and knowing Quinn as well as you did, it was unlikely that she was letting anyone in to help her. The girl liked to bury her problems deep, something you knew so well, and this was it clearly rearing its ugly head.

It only lasted a few moments before she took a shaky breath and pulled herself away from you, heading to the sink to splash water on her face. She obviously must have realised she was showing too many emotions and decided to shut it down. Pity.

Walking away, you headed back to the living room where Brittany was having a thorough discussion with Lord Tubbington, who looked pissed off and grumpy. Knowing better than to get near him when he was in one of his moods, you stuck close to the door.

"There you are!" Rachel cried, jumping up off the ground and skidding over to you. Her socks were slipping on the hardwood floors, and you knew at some point she was going to end up on her ass. It was your job now to ensure that she didn't do too much damage to herself.

"You okay?" she asked, wrapping her arms round your waist. Narrowing her eyes at your neck, Rachel leant backwards, her hands staying in place, and glanced up to look at you properly. "Did you just have sex with Quinn? I thought you two were trying to be friends."

Rolling your eyes, you fought a smile at how adorable she was being and shook your head. "Trying being the operative word, Rach."

"Eww." Untangling herself, Rachel took a step back, her nose crinkled in distaste.

"We didn't have sex," you pointed out, reaching out and pulling her back to you. Her socks aided your efforts and against her wishes, she was dragged back, pouting the entire time.

"That hickey says otherwise," she pointed out, literally pointing as she did so.

"We didn't have sex, we just…kissed a bit, I guess."

"Promise you didn't have sex?" She was looking at you with such distress, as if you'd just told her you might have shot Bambi's mother or something equally horrific.

"I promise." She thought it over for a second before grinning brightly, giving you her show smile.

"Good! Now, I think Lord Tubbington has a crush on me. I used my extensive sign language knowledge to talk to him earlier, and now he won't stop staring at me," Rachel said, nuzzling into your shoulder, all previous talk forgotten.

Thinking back on how much she had drunk that evening, you looked back at Lord T and was surprised to find him actually staring in your direction. To test Rachel's theory, which she was still yammering on about, you dragged her body with yours across the room, and Lord Tubbington's gaze followed.

Creepy little bastard.

"Make sure he doesn't follow you home," you said quietly, hoping Rachel would take your suggestion seriously. From the grin you received, you were sure she did.

At that point, Quinn breezed into the room, and you were relieved to see she didn't give Rachel and you a second look. She was either pretending you two weren't all over each other or was actually trying to be respectful to your friendship. You hoped for the latter.

As if seeing everyone back together, Brittany bounced off the floor and sprung over to the movie cupboard. Within seconds, she had a selection in her hand and had turned back to everyone.

"Movie time!" she called, waving the Disney movies about.

"Oh! Oh! Yes, let's do that!" Rachel cried, fist pumping the air. You snorted and shook your head, vowing to get her drinking again, before moving the two of you to the couch.

Depositing her in the middle, you climbed on the end and was then pleasantly surprised as she cozied up to you, silently asking with her eyes if it was okay. You gave her a soft smile and a nod, opening your arms for her to crawl into further, and then settled in as Brittany worked the DVD player.

Quinn dimmed the lights, like you normally did, and then sat back in the armchair, while Brittany pounced onto the other couch, kicking her legs out while the menu came up on screen. Lying there, it almost felt normal, as if things hadn't been tense and crazy before, and that thought had you smiling again.

This, this felt more like the relaxing night you had hoped for.

*0*0*

Once the movie was finished, it was decided that it would be best for everyone to get some sleep. Quinn had been falling asleep throughout, and went up to bed on autopilot, waving half-heartedly as she did so. Rachel was also sleepy, but was being stubborn about it.

"I feel like we should stay awake, the night is too young! Let's build a fort! Oh that's a great idea, Rachel. We can camp out!" You knew it was way past her bedtime when she started referring to herself in the third person.

"We can do that another night. Right now, it's bedtime." You wrapped your arms round her waist and hoisted her off the couch, very thankful of her small stature.

"But I'm not tired!" she protested, shaking her head.

It would have been convincing if her eyes had been open when she'd said it. As they were not, you knew she was lying her tipsy little arse off, and had no qualms about dragging her across the room towards the stairs.

Helping her up the stairs was no easy feat, however. There were countless stops and starts as she attempted to re-enact the Von Trapp family's song and dance they did on the stairs in the Sound of Music. You only managed to get her upstairs after promising to let her perform the whole routine at some point in the future.

Lucky you.

Using the hardwood floors as an advantage again, you dragged her body in your arms across the floor and into the spare bedroom, where the carpet suddenly slowed you down. Rachel continued to yap in your ear about proper handling techniques, but really, she was lucky you hadn't pushed her ass down the stairs by now. How you hadn't lost it at _So Long, Farewell_ was beyond you.

Thankfully, the spare bedroom was empty when you entered. It just felt safer keeping her and Quinn in separate rooms for the night. God only knows what they might do to each other while the other one slept. With Rachel flouncing into bed, suddenly admitting defeat once she felt the bed beneath her, you wrapped her up in the covers and vowed you would be back soon.

Downstairs, you could hear Brittany cleaning up, and went to help. Throughout the movie, you had been drinking water to try and flush the alcohol out your system, and it had worked, which meant you were perfectly capable of lending a hand.

If you weren't convinced Rachel wouldn't have burst into song, you would have made her help, too, but that was not a risk you wanted to take. If the stairs brought out The Sound of Music, God only knows what she'd come out with while cleaning. Suddenly the mental image of Queen popped in your head, and you shuddered at the thought.

At the bottom of the stairs, you glanced to your left, into the kitchen and surveyed the mess there. It wasn't bad, but there might be more dishes in the living room. Turning to see, your eye caught something else first.

Seeing the hat from earlier on the entryway table, you picked it up to put it back in the hall closet. Hearing it rustle, you reached in and pulled out the bits of paper to put in the bin. The three pieces of paper were unfolding in your hand, and you frowned upon reading your name on two of them. Opening them all out, they all read your name.

Brittany hadn't put anyone else's name in the hat.

Shaking your head, you couldn't fight back the smile on your lips. She knew all of you better than you knew yourselves, and this was just another example of that.

Of course, Brittany knew you would never pick a name out, because that would mean choosing. The last thing you wanted to do was make it seem like you were picking sides, especially when it came to Rachel and Quinn. While you were prepared to make the hard decision and firmly say you would be friends with Rachel over Quinn if she didn't clean up her behaviour towards the other girl, you never wanted to actually test that theory.

Rachel and Quinn weren't going to take the risk of picking a name out, just in case they had chosen each other. As hard as they might try, or rather as hard as Rachel would have tried, they wouldn't have been able to hide their disappointment if they had selected each other. Therefore, it would only have caused problems if they had picked.

Brittany knew this, she knew what you all would do, defer and make her do it. She managed to take the stress off you, making sure you weren't picking between your best friend and the girl you're in love with. She made sure you were able to have an easier night, relaxing and goofing off with her, without second-guessing your every move and action with one of the others.

God, she was a fucking genius.

Turning, you sought her out in the living room and caught her eye. "I love you," you mouthed, holding the pieces of paper in your hand as she danced about, cleaning up. Brittany giggled and rolled her eyes, swishing her hips to the beat of the song as she gathered up the mess that was left behind.

Only when the place was back to being spick and span did the two of you head on upstairs. Brittany gave you a one armed hug and kissed your cheek, biding you goodnight as she entered her bedroom. She didn't even need to be told where you were sleeping, as if she knew already, and you smiled to yourself as you headed to bed.

Tonight, despite how it had started, was actually awesome, and it felt great to be back amongst friends again. You had missed this, and as you entered the spare bedroom, releasing a contented sigh as you did so, the sight of Lord Tubbington creepily staring at Rachel from the bedside table wasn't even enough to ruin it for you.

*0*0*

With the success of Brittany's sleepover, you entered the following week with a spring in your step and a smile on your face. All hope was not lost, and progress was still being made. Yes, it hadn't been all smooth sailing, but you had made it through the storm in one piece and were proud to have done so.

Or rather, as close as one can be in one piece with a damn hickey on their neck.

Quinn had certainly made her claim clear, and Rachel kept grimacing at it every time she caught sight of the bruised skin. If that had been Quinn's intention, it was working. You wanted to seek her out and scold her again for that childish move, but knew if the roles had been reversed, you probably would have done the same thing. In fact, you distinctly remember doing exactly this.

"I brought you this," Rachel declared, standing by your locker on the Tuesday morning as you gathered your books.

"What is it?" you asked, not having looked over to see for yourself.

"Proper stage makeup to cover that heinous mark on your neck. She may as well have urinated on you." Chuckling at her disgusted tone, you closed your locker and thanked her for the makeup, putting it in your bag.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to do as within seconds Rachel was marching you to the bathroom to apply it immediately. God, she was feisty in the mornings.

Ten minutes later, after washing off your poor attempt at covering it up, and then applying the makeup incorrectly, three times, Rachel took over and had you hickey free in seconds. You couldn't help but wonder how many times she had used this to cover her own up, as she was definitely a pro at it, and you knew you'd need to enquire at a later date.

"Thank you for humouring me, Santana," Rachel said, washing her hands afterwards. "I very much appreciate it." She gave you a thankful smile, and your chest ached at all the reasons she could be thanking you for. God only knows how hard it could be for her to see you marked by a girl who kept breaking your heart. As if her mind was at the same place, Rachel cleared her throat and then started a fresh topic. "Now, shall I see you at lunch? I do believe Brittany will be joining us in the auditorium today."

"Yeah, I'll be there. And thanks," you said, pointing at your neck.

She had actually done you a favour, as you were gaining quite a few looks. Jew-Fro's blog already had a poll running to guess who had given it to you. Surprisingly, Rachel seemed to be winning, last time you checked, and you really hoped Quinn wasn't going to look on their anytime soon.

Hell, you silently prayed Rachel didn't check either, because that would be like a punch to the gut.

Regardless, it seemed the students of McKinley weren't as blind as you had thought. Your friendship with Rachel had clearly caught some interest, and yet there hadn't been any fallout from it, or at least you weren't aware of any. This was good news, great news, and maybe people were becoming more tolerant.

Feeling a little better about that, Rachel and you headed off to your classes for the morning, and as the students watched the two of you move through the halls, you actually didn't detect a hint of animosity directed your way.

Whether it was the Cheerio armour protecting the two of you, or whether minds had begun changing, you were happy to accept the difference with caution. If only Quinn could see that things weren't as bad as what they used to be.

Sighing, you let that thought fly away and went back to blissful ignorance.

You remained like that right up until lunch, where you retreated to the safety of the auditorium, and let down your masks. Everyone else needed to see you as untouchable, a force to be reckoned with, but you were happy to leave that at the door as you goofed off with Brittany and Rachel seven rows up from the stage.

It seemed that Rachel had in fact remembered her tipsy Von Trapp performance, which you had interrupted, and she was trying to plot a way with Brittany to get you to sit through the whole thing this time. Whatever.

Bickering with her over what date was suitable, and no, you were not going to her house because her fathers hated you, had you distracted that you completely missed the sound of the auditorium door opening and closing.

It wasn't until Brittany spoke that you realised someone else was present, and you were shocked to see who it was.

"Hey, Quinn," Brittany chimed, causing Rachel and you to look up the row.

Quinn was standing in her Cheerios uniform, but with her hair down, ruffled over her shoulders. She was anxiously rubbing her hands together and biting her lip, eyeing the three of you. Like always when it came to Quinn, you wanted to comfort her, protect her from whatever had her so anxious, but this time you shut it down. You needed to take a step back. You had been putting all your eggs in one basket, and you didn't even know if it would work out.

"Hey," Quinn said, giving a poorly convincing smile, before looking past Brittany. "Um, Rachel, can I speak to you for a moment?" That question took Rachel and you by surprise, as Brittany seemed to know everything anyway, and you both turned to each other.

You shot her a questioning look but Rachel shrugged, clearly having no idea what this was about, too. She turned back to Quinn and rose from her chair, her food in hand.

"Oh, eh, sure, Quinn." You couldn't see it, but you were sure Rachel was giving Quinn a fake show smile. There was no way she wanted to talk to her.

"Wait, you don't have to-" you began to say, fully prepared to put a stop to this. You shot a frown at Quinn, wondering about her motives, but Rachel was waving you off with her free hand.

"Relax, I'll be fine," she said, leaning down to put her bag on the chair and put her food away. She gave you a reassuring smile and then handed over her fruit pot and spare fork. "Don't finish my mango. I want some when I get back." She gave you another smile and then squeezed past Brittany, completely ignoring any more protests you might have had.

You watched them walk away, heading towards the auditorium doors before turning back to the mango. She always gave you something from her lunch, and you knew she'd handed over her most prized part to shut you up. The annoying thing was that it was probably going to work. She had sweetened you up and you were a sucker for it.

Piercing a bit of mango with the fork, you tucked in and tried to ignore Brittany's chuckling next to you. Of course, she would laugh at your predictability. She could read you like a book, and it was obvious that you incapable of defying Rachel's wishes.

Only when you had finished half of the mango did you put the lid back on and decided to breach the subject. The two of them had been away for a while, and you looked round in concern but it turned out they had left the auditorium. That unsettled you further.

"Relax, Rachel can handle herself," Brittany finally said, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched you. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, unamused.

"Why should she have to _handle _herself, though? What does Quinn want?" you asked, frowning.

"You have no faith in her, do you?" That question caught you off guard and your frown vanished. You blinked and shook your head, wondering who exactly she was meaning. You had two very different answers.

"Who?"

"Quinn. You really think she'd going to do something horrible to Rachel?" With that you relaxed slightly and then shrugged.

"Well, no, but I don't want Rachel getting hurt. Quinn is jealous and angry, and I'd hate for that to be taken out on Rachel, especially when it's not her fault."

Brittany looked at you pensively for a moment and then pursed her lips. You knew she was going to say something, probably something that would mess with your thinking, and your body tensed waiting on it.

"Whose fault is it, do you think?"

"Mine, I guess. Fifty words. If that hadn't gotten involved, I would have been able to tell Quinn how I felt and we wouldn't have ended up-"

"Okay, I'm just going to stop you right there, San," Brittany began, shaking her head with a smile, cutting you off. "You're delusional if you think that you would have been able to tell Quinn you loved her or that this situation would be any different without Fifty Words."

"What do you mean?" That had you frowning, curious to see where she was going with this.

"Fifty Words was a tool to break you down so you couldn't push people away," Brittany said, looking at you with a sort of desperation. "How could you think it's to blame for this current situation? Don't you see all the good it has done?"

"Yeah, it's done some good, but it also created a lot of mess along the way. I mean, I was going to tell Quinn I loved her and then I lost my words, I was kicked off the Cheerios and ended up alone, my reputation suffered because I couldn't go all Lima Heights on their asses-"

"But what about becoming friends with Rachel? Being secure enough to tell Quinn you love her? Being comfortable enough with your sexuality not to accept anything less than an open and secret free relationship? Being friends with people who genuinely care about you? Doesn't any of that count?"

It did, it most definitely did, but it also didn't. Quinn fell in love with the harsh and venomous Santana Lopez, not the girl who had been stripped down to nothing but her most honest and valuable opinions. Fifty words had changed you, but it hadn't changed anyone else.

Rachel had always been as forgiving and kind, and it took Fifty Words before you noticed it. Brittany was always a great friend, but it took Fifty Words before you could reconcile that friendship. Then there was Quinn, she had been most content before Fifty Words, so it made sense that after Fifty Words, she'd be struggling the most.

Your relationship with her worked before you had changed, before you had seen that hiding in the shadows and loving from afar was not the road for you, but she hadn't changed. She was still the same, still needing to hide in the shadows. So, unless anything changed on her end, it looked like things wouldn't work out between the two of you.

And that's where you hated Fifty Words. You loved her, you adored her, and you knew she felt the same way. But she was exactly where you had been last year. She was scared and frightened. She couldn't be out, and you never would have needed her to be if Fifty Words hadn't changed your perspective of things.

It didn't matter what the masses thought if you had those few special people in your corner, Rachel and Brittany, looking after you. But it was clear Quinn didn't think that. The people in her corner weren't enough for her to risk the ridicule, and without some divine intervention, you suspected that relationship would never get off the ground.

Friends, you were trying so hard to be friends. But for what?

"Why does any of this matter?" you finally asked, feeling an all too familiar ache in your chest.

Looking up into the familiar eyes of Britt, you fought hard to ignore that realisation and then glanced up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath as you did so. You were not going to get upset about this. Everything would work out. It would be fine.

"I just wanted to know if I made a mistake," Brittany whispered once you had control of yourself again, her eyes staring off at the stage.

"What?" Turning abruptly back to her, you knew you must have looked like a fish out of water.

What had she just said? What was that? What did that mean? What? A million other questions buzzed around your brain, waiting for her to clarify. You needed to know what she meant by that. You needed her to explain her words fully, because your brain was having a hard time doing so.

Sadly, you never got an answer to your question as at that moment, the auditorium doors opened and in skipped Rachel. Literally skipping. She was so frigging adorable. Brittany's cryptic message was immediately wiped from your mind and you smiled at the advancing brunette.

"Did you leave me some mango?" Rachel asked, slipping past Brittany again and taking her seat.

"Yep, sure did." You handed her back the fruit pot, and watched as her eyes lit up when she popped the lid off.

"Thanks!" She shot you a beaming smile and quickly had a piece before telling you what happened. "Quinn invited me round to have dinner at hers on Thursday night."

"This Thursday?"

"Yep." Rachel didn't seem bothered at all by this, but it had taken you by surprise. What was Quinn thinking? Inviting Rachel over, given their history, just seemed like a train wreck waiting to happen.

"Why?" There had to be some ulterior motive.

"You," Rachel answered simply, pointing a speared piece of mango at you.

"Huh?" That didn't make sense.

"She wants us to make amends and get to know each other, for you," Rachel explained, still looking unfazed. That was unnerving in itself. Wasn't she worried? Wasn't she scared about what would happen?

"Me?" you asked, just for clarification. Maybe you had gotten that wrong.

Apparently not.

Rachel nodded, finishing off the piece of mango in her mouth before continuing. "She knows we're close friends, and I didn't detect any hostility when she mentioned it, and I think she's being genuine. She wants us to get to know one another, without you around as that doesn't end well for any of us." That statement was definitely accurate, but still, the whole situation seemed wrong.

"What about her parents?" Mr. and Mrs. Fabray weren't the most welcoming hosts, and you did not want Rachel exposed to their bigotry and prejudice.

"They won't be there, which is why I think she made this offer in the first place. I hardly think she'd feel comfortable introducing me to her exceedingly Christian parents, and while I do know a fair bit about Christianity, I do believe Quinn's parents are Protestants, not Catholic where all my knowledge lies."

"They are," you interjected, nodding. Your Catholic roots had never appealed to them, and you knew they would hate Rachel for so many things, least of all, her being Jewish.

"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything less." You shot her an amused look at the clear disapproval, and if you didn't know better, you were sure she'd make some kind of WASP joke. But you did, and it was Rachel, so that was never going to happen.

"So are you going?" A part of you was desperate for her to say no. Why, though, you didn't know.

"Definitely. I'm rising to the challenge." How noble, you thought dryly, shooting her an unimpressed look. She ignored it, but grinned cheekily and continued eating.

"Do you think that's wise?"

"No, but she's extending the proverbial olive branch, and I would be a horrible friend to you if I didn't accept it. She's trying, so I will, too."

"You don't have to. I don't mind if you don't want to be friends with her." God, if you were in Rachel's position, you certainly wouldn't want to be friends with Quinn. But then again, if you were in Rachel's position, you probably wouldn't even be friends with yourself, given how difficult that must be for her at times.

"Friends might be pushing it, but I can certainly try to be acquaintances with her." Rachel shrugged at you, as if to say she was going to let this run its course, and you couldn't do anything about it.

"So that's all she wanted?"

"More or less."

"You're not going to tell me about the rest are you?" you asked, eyeing her seriously. She chuckled and shook her head.

"Nope." Typical. When you needed Rachel's verbose speech, she always cut it down. Her simple answers were such a pain at times.

"Fine." You turned back in your seat and crossed your arms, hoping to guilt trip her. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her glancing at you, and you waited patiently for her reaction.

"Oh don't pout, Santana, please," Rachel said, placing her hand on your arm. "I gave you half my mango, doesn't that count for something?" As if you reaffirm her point, she waved the tub at you.

"Yes it did, but you gave it to me before you decided to withhold information." Rachel sighed dramatically, a smile on her lips and pushed the tub closer to you.

"I'll let you finish it off, if you would like?" her eyes were dancing with mirth, and she couldn't contain the grin.

"No, you enjoy it." You rolled your eyes at your pathetic-ness and pushed the tub back at her, seeing her amused face. It was clear from the onset that you were always going to forgive her for that. You just didn't have it in you to be annoyed at her for anything.

"Thanks!" she chimed, tucking back in. "But seriously, the rest of the conversation is nothing to worry about, just things Quinn and I needed to say to clear the air."

"You're okay, though, right?" you asked, trying to detect any hint of her being hurt by whatever Quinn had said to her. It wasn't there, which either meant she was getting better at hiding her emotions from you, or that everything was fine. You were hoping it was the latter.

"Absolutely." You believed her, and then smiled as she dove off into a completely new topic, her enthusiasm bringing Brittany and you back into the mix.

As hard as you tried, this development still didn't sit well with you. It probably wouldn't until it was over and done with, and you knew for sure there was nothing malicious behind Quinn's actions. God, you wished you could give the girl more credit, but she was head of the Cheerios and leader of the Unholy Trinity for a reason. Information like that couldn't just be forgotten overnight.

*0*0*

That Thursday night, you paced your floor a thousand times, kept looking at the clock, and prayed for time to move faster. You had agreed with Rachel that she would come to yours afterwards, as she knew you would be unsettled by it all. You wanted to be embarrassed that she knew you so well, but there was no time for that, and really, you shouldn't have been surprised.

Rachel was only going to Quinn's for dinner, and you had already found out she was to be there for seven o'clock. Therefore, by nine o'clock she should have been out of there, easily. Yet, as you looked at the clock another time, it read ten seventeen.

What the hell were the two of them up to for three hours? Had one of them snapped? Were you going to get a phone call asking you to help move a dead body and provide an alibi?

As if the universe was aware of your thoughts, your phone suddenly vibrated, and you almost tripped over your own feet trying to get to it.

_I'm outside, come let me in. – Rachel _

Chucking the phone on the bed, you skipped down the stairs, trying hard not to draw too much attention to you so your parents didn't come out and start the Spanish Inquisition. Thankfully, they both looked to be happily settled in the living room, and oblivious to your actions.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, you ushered Rachel in and the two of you snuck up to your room. She looked to be in one piece, and her eyes weren't puffy or red from crying, so that was good, but still, she might have been holding it in. You needed to be sure.

After one final check to see your parents were still occupied, you shut your bedroom door and locked it. Rachel was glancing round your room with curiosity, and completely oblivious to all the emotions bubbling up inside of you.

"How'd it go?" you asked, sounding rather frantic as you advanced on her. Rachel smiled and went to step past you, but you were having none of that. If she was going to lie, she could do it to your face. Taking her hand in yours, you tugged her to the bed and made her sit. She laughed at your antics and shook her head, knowing she wasn't going to get away that easy.

"It went well, better than I expected," she admitted, no sign of deception in her words.

"Really?" You could hardly believe it.

Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes, clearly expecting your distrust at her words and nodded. "Yes, really. Don't sound so surprised."

"I am surprised. You had dinner at Quinn's house. Not even I do that." Rachel practically flinched at your words, and you wanted the floor to swallow you up whole when you realised what you'd eluded to with that sentence.

"Not even when you two were…?" Rachel asked, looking anywhere but at you.

"No, dinner wasn't exactly what we wanted from each other," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, anxiously. Nice going, jackass.

Rachel seemed to hear your words and then take a moment to process them. She blinked once, twice, before shaking her head and taking a deep breath.

"Oh. Well, that's a little awkward." She frowned and examined the bedspread beneath her fingertips, avoiding eye contact with you.

"Awkward?"

"It felt weird being in her room, knowing you two had…yeah." She had been in Quinn's room. Fucking hell, was Quinn trying to torture the girl?

"Was it all weird, being there?" you asked, curiously. You needed to know how much it had affected her so you knew what stance to take in case something like this happened again. If you made enough fuss, you were sure you could get Rachel to bow out of whatever Quinn had planned next.

"At first we danced around the issues, but eventually it became clear small talk was going to get us nowhere. We hashed out some problems, and then found mutual ground to discuss. And no, you may not enquire as to what it was. Quinn and I are attempting to patch up our problems, and you getting involved only spells disaster."

"If that wasn't true, I'd be very hurt right now by that accusation," you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. Pft, as if you were the problem here.

"Oh shush."

"So, you guys don't have plans for anything else, do you? I don't think my heart could take the worrying," you admitted, watching as Rachel's face lit up with your confession.

"You were that worried, huh?"

"You know I was, now answer the question." She grinned at you and the embarrassment you felt seemed worth it.

"No, we haven't made any plans. I think we're just seeing how it goes, and if Brittany has another sleepover, then we will try to be civil towards each other then." Rachel shrugged, looking unfazed by it all, as if it wasn't really a big deal for her. Maybe it was only a big deal for you.

"Okay, so if you're free, do you maybe want to…I don't know, do you want to…" you began to say, frowning at the nerves you suddenly felt. It was only Rachel, but the two of you had a friendship that flourished in school, and so far, hardly any interaction out of it.

"Yeah?" Rachel asked, curiously raising her eyebrows in question.

"I mean, do you want to come over and hang out this Friday? We've not really been able to do that properly." That was an understatement. The times the two of you had were either with other people present, or where you had run out of words.

"Really?" Rachel looked excitied, but there was a shadow of doubt, as if she didn't believe you.

"Yes, really. Don't sound so surprised," you mocked, earning a playful glare in return.

"That's a very kind offer, and once I get permission from my fathers, I shall be happy to say yes."

"Okay, so great, it'll never happen. Your fathers hate me," you moaned, dramatically dropping back on the bed. Rachel laughed and you felt her move to lean over you.

"They don't hate you, they just don't know you. I'm working on rectifying that, however." You frowned at that, earning another smile on her lips.

"Bullshit, they hate me. And stop whatever it is you're thinking now, I do not consent. Oh, and how the hell did you convince them to let you go to Quinn's house? The Fabray's hate your family."

Rachel winced and nodded, clearly ignoring your 'do not consent' comment. Whatever, you'd get back to that later. No way was she getting off that easy.

"Indeed, it was very tricky, but I convinced them that Quinn was in need of a friend and it would hypocritical of them if they didn't let me be that friend."

"But you're not friends with her," you pointed out, causing Rachel to roll her eyes at you again.

"Yes, but they don't know that."

"This is why they hate me. You would never have lied like that before I came along." You were such a bad influence on her.

"Oh please, you give yourself too much credit. I would, and did, lie like this. You just gave me fun reasons to do so, rather than really sad ones." You gave her a soft smile at that, feeling guilty all of a sudden, but she saw right through you. "None of that, get that look off your face now, and tell me what you have planned for Friday before I have to leave."

You smiled and rolled your eyes, pleased that she was looking forward to tomorrow night, and rather relieved she wasn't going to let her fathers' distaste for you ruin things. After running through what you hoped the two of you could do this Friday, Rachel left your house with a beaming smile on her face, and a spring in her step, not unlike the one you had sported earlier on in the week.

You were still smiling, too, as you crawled into bed sometime later. Rachel and you were still going strong, your friendship unaffected by her feelings, Quinn was trying to patch things up by the looks of it, and Brittany was standing in the wings making sure everything ran smoothly. These girls, god, you loved them.

With them in your life, they made the mountains look like molehills, and anything could be achieved.

*0*0*


	15. Chapter 15: Saviour

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Saviour

*0*0*

The Friday night you spent with Rachel was just as easy as every other night you'd spent with the girl. The two of you didn't do anything special, but finally had a chance to just hang out, alone, and have all the conversations Fifty Words had prevented the two of you from having.

It included everything from her relationship with Finnept to yours with Brittany, her plans to get her fathers to like you, to your parents and siblings, and by the end of it all, you actually had learnt a great deal more about her than you ever thought you would.

The old Santana Lopez would have used all of this information to destroy the girl lying next to you, but you wouldn't even dream of doing that to her, and it was as if Rachel herself knew that. She had trusted you with a lot of things that were clearly personal to her, and you replied in kind, making this friendship more secure than anything. But still, the fact that the two of you were able to do that had you smiling bemusedly.

Fifty Words really had changed things up for good, and thinking of such had you remembering the words Brittany had said earlier that week. You still had no idea what that was about, but you were determined to find out.

That's how you found yourself hanging back with Brittany during lunch on Monday. Rachel had needed to go prepare for Glee later on, and you waved her off with a smile. She suspected something was up, but didn't ask for details, and left Brittany and you alone.

Brittany was happily eating the remainder of her orange, oblivious to the eye contact going on between Rachel and you, but then again, maybe she was fully aware and just letting the two of you have your silent conversation. Maybe the reason she was taking so long to eat her orange was so you didn't need an excuse to keep her around longer than necessary.

"You can ask now," Brittany declared, spinning in her chair to look at you with a grin once Rachel had left. Of course, she knew everything, so she knew you wanted to talk to her. She probably _was_ just eating slow for you. Ugh, and you couldn't even be mad about her seeing through you completely.

"Thanks," you said dryly, rolling your eyes at how well she knew you before clearing your throat. "What did you mean that day in the auditorium when you said you wanted to know if you'd made a mistake?"

Those words had rung round your head for days on end. You just couldn't forget them. They needed explaining. And from the looks of it, Brittany knew that, too. She took a breath and shrugged.

"Exactly what it sounds like," she answered, but it wasn't enough for you. There had to be more to it than that.

"Why?" you wondered. Why did she want to know if she'd made a mistake? And how, _how_, had she made a mistake if one had been made?

"You needed to move on," Brittany began. "You needed to forgive yourself, and be forgiven for the things you had done. You needed to grow. God, Santana, it's not easy knowing how something will play out before it happens. Except with me, I don't have the luxury like Rachel where they come sporadically. I just know. Always. And with you, I knew that if something drastic didn't happen, you were going to fly off the deep end, and no one would be able to get you back."

"So you what, cursed me?" That what it was beginning to sound like, though you weren't sure that's what she meant.

She needed to do something drastic, and Fifty Words certainly had been that. But fly off the deep end, what did that mean? What were you going to do? And you didn't think things had been that bad. Okay, you were lonely and bitter at the world and everyone in it but fuck, you'd had your heart broken, you were falling in love with a girl you shouldn't have been, and you had no one to talk to about it all. How else were you to feel? Did all that really mean that something drastic had to be done?

"Was it a curse? And do you really think I would curse you?" Brittany asked, a look of hurt flashing across her face. "I asked for some help, for you to see the damage your words and behaviour was doing, and this is what they chose for you."

"They?"

Who the fuck were they?

Without thinking, you looked up at the ceiling and glanced around. You knew you weren't going to see anyone, but fuck, there was apparently a _they _now, and that meant _they _had to be watching to know what was going on. Talk about fucking creepy.

"I don't know _who_ they are, if that's what you're asking. I just asked for help for you, and I got it." Brittany shrugged and bit her lip in an almost apologetic manner. She had nothing more to say on the matter, and it was going to have to do. She didn't know, which said a lot given she'd just confessed to knowing practically everything.

"Do you think you made a mistake?" you asked, now biting your lip anxiously.

If Brittany knew what lay ahead, just knew, she would be able to tell if her actions had influenced you in a bad way. She clearly thought you needed help otherwise she wouldn't have intervened, which was scary to think about. This deep end you apparently were going to go off in seemed worse each second you thought about it. So, if Brittany thought she'd made a mistake, your future, the one that had changed due to Fifty Words, was not as good as the one you were destined to have before it.

You guessed that you just needed to know if Fifty Words had definitely improved things for you, over all. It was hard to deal with now, but if it was worth it in the long run, then who were you to complain?

"No, I don't think I did. But do you think I made one?" Brittany asked in return.

Thinking it over, taking everything into consideration, you shook your head. There's no way she could have made a mistake, not when you had her friendship, Rachel's friendship, and Quinn's friendship to think about. Plus, you were finally happier. Last week you may have been dubious about it, but from what she'd just said, it was clear no mistake had been made.

"No." That brought a soft smile to her lips, and she wiped at the corner of her eye, looking so much more relieved than before. "Thank you," you went on to say. "I guess I'll never know to what extent you saved me, but thanks. I appreciate it."

"It wasn't just you, San. This has helped, saved, more than just you. You don't need to thank me," she said, reaching over and grabbing your hand. You entwined your fingers in her and thought over what she had said.

Fifty words had helped…saved…more than just you, which meant that you apparently weren't the only one who had troubled times ahead. But by changing one part, one tiny piece of the jigsaw, other people's lives had been changed, too.

"Rachel?" you wondered, trying to see if she was one of the ones that had been helped by Fifty Words. Brittany nodded softly and awaited the next name.

"Quinn?" This time, she nodded vigorously, and a part of your chest ached at the thought of how things were playing out before Fifty Words. You had been messing her about and screwing her over, and if you'd had your words it would have been a lot worse. You would have used those words to cruelly break her heart, something she definitely didn't deserve. Thank fuck for Fifty Words.

"You?" Brittany smiled sweetly and nodded once, as if happy with that development.

"We all need you in our lives, and this was a sure way of keeping you around," she added, squeezing your hand once more. Her words alone had fear creeping up your spine and making your eyes widen for a second.

"Keeping me around?" You tried to hide the anxiety at the thought, but it was impossible to do so, and it slipped out in the tone of your voice.

"I think you can put the pieces together," Brittany replied softly.

You could. You knew exactly what she was saying and you took a shaky breath and squeezed her hand at the mere thought of how things could have gone.

"So do you forgive me for interfering?" she asked after giving you a moment to come to terms with what she'd just said.

"I wouldn't say you interfered. You didn't interfere at all, actually. But yes, I do." You knew that's what she needed to hear, and you were happy to tell her so. There really wasn't anything to forgive, now that you knew the bigger picture.

It was with a smile on both your faces that the two of you walked out the auditorium, hand in hand, and headed back to your lockers. That conversation had certainly cleared up everything you needed it to, and somehow, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

Before, you had no idea if Fifty Words might come back at any moment, as if this reprieve was only temporary. But from what Brittany had said, you assumed that you could only get your words back if your lesson had been learnt, so to speak, and it seemed that was the case. No more nightmares about the voiceover being back. No more fears of never getting the chance to tell Quinn you loved her. You had your words back for good.

You were free from Fifty Words, and it was surprisingly bittersweet. On one hand, you missed the voice over counting you, making you use your words properly but on the other, you were happy to be able to speak without fear of being cut off, of getting to say more than one word, and of using your words to speak to all of your friends each day, and not just one.

Fifty Words had saved you, and with that thought in mind, all bad blood and left over venom you had for it was gone.

*0*0*

Later on that afternoon, once classes had finished, you found yourself sitting in the back of Glee, waiting on it to start. Rachel was talking with Artie and Tina about God only knows what, but you'd saved her a seat for when she was done. She had given you a curious glance when you'd walked in, wondering about lunch no doubt, but her curiosity seemed to die when she saw you take a seat next to Brittany and curl up against her.

Obviously, she was worried about the two of you possibly fighting but that was not the case. You actually didn't see yourself fighting with either of them, seriously anyway. Bickering was likely, but fighting, full on arguing just seemed so out of place in the friendships you had built with them. It felt rather nice, knowing that all your major differences had been put aside and there wasn't the risk of hurting each other.

Granted, change still needed to be made with Quinn, but it seemed like it was happening. You were giving her the benefit of the doubt with Rachel, and were hoping that you weren't going to regret it. But, really, you couldn't see Quinn making the effort she had with the girl if it was to only make her fall flat on her face. The old Quinn Fabray, pre-baby, would have most definitely have done that, but the Quinn you knew, the one you fell in love with, wouldn't. Or so you hoped.

Just thinking about the girl had your eyes scanning the room, only to end up rolling them as Mr. Schue walked in late and began wrangling everyone's attention to the front. He started droning on and on about this week's word on the board, and you wanted to point out how none of this was going to help the team with Regionals.

Rachel seemed to be on the same page as you and tried to interrupt him, but he wasn't having any of it. Jackass. The rest of the team seemed to be in agreement with your thought because as soon as he shot her down, everyone sort of deflated in their seats, slouching down and crossing their arms.

Snuggling into Brittany's side further, you yawned and fought to keep your eyes open, briefly wondering if you could take a nap. Schue probably wouldn't even notice. Well, he might not, but the hazel eyes you had previously been seeking out most definitely would notice. Quinn was sitting in the row in front of you, but while you were sitting on the far right of the room, she was on the far left, and hardly needed to turn her head at all to see you.

She smiled and appeared to make a tutting noise with her tongue, which had you grinning back at her. You rolled your eyes and attempted to sit up a little straighter, unsettling Brittany a little in the process but she didn't look to mind. Quinn nodded proudly at you and you smiled like an idiot.

This wasn't even conversation, but it felt like a nice little bit of development. She was goofing off with you, something neither of you had done in so long, and it felt good to have that back. Plus, it was a pleasant surprise when you didn't think she'd even acknowledge. Sometimes it was so hard to work out what mood she was in, but at least she looked to be pretty happy today. With her like this, how could you not give her the benefit of the doubt when it came to Rachel? Surely she knew that if she hurt the other girl you would not only be hurt but be pissed.

"Santana?" Mr. Schue interrupted, making you pull your eyes away from Quinn and towards the front.

He was looking at you expectantly and you had no idea why. You hadn't been listening, and it seemed that it was obvious to everyone in the room but him.

"What?" you blurted out, frowning at him. He looked a little exasperated by your brutish reply and lack of listening but was kind enough to repeat what he'd said.

"Do you feel like singing today, Santana? Perhaps give us a solo performance instead of just back-up vocals in the group numbers?" You knew he was trying to get you back in the game for the upcoming competitions but no, just no.

"Not yet, Mr. Schue." Accepting your answer, he turned back to the group and started on about something else.

"Why aren't you singing?" Rachel asked, leaning over the gap between your chairs to whisper it to you, curiosity coating her words.

"I just don't feel like it, yet." You shrugged one shoulder, unsure why exactly you weren't ready, but knowing not to question it. You were fine to join in on the group numbers, when it didn't matter that much, but a solo performance so was much different.

Every time you sang, you gave yourself to the song, you pushed you emotions and feelings into it, and right now, you just couldn't do it. You were taxed beyond your means, still trying to put things back together after Fifty Words, mentally, and that meant singing was not high on your agenda.

It would come back, you knew it would, but as for now, you were content to sing the backup parts and let the others have the limelight. Of course, no one else complained, though you could see the slight worry frown in Rachel's face each time you turned down a chance to shine.

Turning back around to the rest of the group, you also noticed another concerned face, and you darted your eyes away from the piercing Hazels that had hooked you in. She was curious, too, no doubt, but you weren't quite ready for her to ask about it. She would be able to read you like a book and just know what the problem was, and probably blame herself for putting you under stress. You didn't want that. You never wanted Quinn to think that she was causing you problems when she wasn't. Not really.

*0*0*

The school week continued much like it usually did, and you spent most of your time with Brittany and Rachel. Nothing unusual there. You really hadn't seen Quinn all that much, but after Monday, when you did see her, she was talking in hushed voices to Brittany, looking slightly more frazzled than usual, and you couldn't help but wonder what happened to the easy smiled girl you had seen in Glee.

A part of you wanted to seek her out, ask her if everything was okay, but that just didn't seem like the right plan of action. You were always going to her, and while there was nothing wrong with it, there's only so many times you can take the slight and rejection when she won't talk to you about her problems, or the pain of knowing you are the problem.

No, Brittany seemed to have a decent handle on whatever was going down, so you didn't need to get involved. In fact, she hadn't even mentioned there being any problem with Quinn, or that the girl was talking to her. You weren't going to be bothered by this, as Brittany knew when to share what info with whom, so if she was keeping it from you, it was probably for a good reason.

Sighing at the thoughts buzzing around your head, you sunk deeper into the auditorium chair and waited. It was Thursday lunchtime, and you were listening for the sound of the door, signalling Rachel's arrival. She must have been running late, probably stuck with Mr. Schue talking about Glee club or her remarkable Spanish grade. You weren't bothered, she'd turn up eventually.

It wasn't long before you did hear the door, and not long after that you heard the footsteps making their way towards you, but you were surprised to find it wasn't Rachel. Instead, Quinn was biting her lip nervously, bag in one hand, and the other running over the tops of the seats as she walked down your row.

"Can I join you?" she asked, looking at you briefly before looking away.

You were surprised to see her, and you were sure your face said as much. But how could you turn her down? This was the first time she'd approached you all week, and it might be her trying to make good on her word, to respect your boundaries and be friends, so you couldn't exactly turn her down. You didn't want to turn her down.

But Rachel.

"She's not coming," Quinn added, watching as you glanced back at the auditorium door. Rather than ask why, you raised your eyebrow in question, making Quinn fidget some more. "I asked her if it would be okay to let me spend lunch with you. If you'd rather I go, though, I can go and get her-"

Clearly your lack of reply had given the impression that Quinn wasn't wanted and that she'd made a mistake because she turned to leave, prompting you to suddenly speak up. It was silly, really, because she'd been messing about with you on Monday, and now you were back to being like strangers. Strangers who knew how to make the other one weak at the knees, and tear each other apart.

"No, stay, please." You ran your hand through your hair, and bit your lip anxiously as Quinn stood there debating whether or not to take a seat.

She opted to stay, but sat down two seats away from you. You didn't want to even think why that distance stung you, but it did. Maybe this was her respecting your boundaries, visually, or maybe she just didn't think you would be comfortable sitting next to her.

Well, that was crap.

Getting up, you grabbed your bag and moved along the row until you were sitting down next to her. Quinn looked a little surprised, though it didn't last for long. Her expression softened, her mask came down, and she sent you a thankful smile. Your heart was revelling in it.

"So, what did I do to earn this pleasure?"

"You made me fall in love with you." You paused and glanced to the side to look at her, she was biting her lip, fighting a smile and shrugged her shoulders when she caught you looking. "I really just wanted to hang out with you, but I figured that sounded better."

You balked and laughed at her boldness, and then shook your head, smiling. She caught on that you weren't fazed by her words and finally allowed herself to smile back. Plus, it was kinda sweet that she wanted to hang out with you, alone, given the only time the two of you were alone lately you were either fighting or fucking.

This would actually be quite a surreal change if you could avoid doing both of those things.

Pulling out your food to begin eating caused Quinn to do the same, and for about five or so minutes, neither of you spoke. It wasn't awkward, surprisingly, but rather peaceful just sitting there with her. Eventually, she did spur up conversation, nothing seriously, and you were happy to answer her and ask questions in kind.

It had been so long since a proper conversation had been had that you felt your mood lifting around her with each passing second. You were also feeling the full effects of those Hazel eyes of hers, and there was no way they could make you feel down or sad.

After a while of talking about the Cheerios, this week's theme in Glee, and moaning about your classes, you decided it was time to maybe be a little bit bold. Quinn had taken a step out of her comfort zone, and you could to. You weren't going to get involved, but you were concerned, and it couldn't hurt to ask. With that in mind, you cleared your throat and shot a look over to Quinn.

"You okay this week?" you asked, hoping she'd be honest, but her defences came up pretty quickly. It was the wrong move, but one you couldn't take back.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replied, shifting in her chair to look at you better.

"I've seen you with Brittany, and you look pretty stressed out." She looked surprised by this news, but brushed it off pretty quickly.

"Yeah…she's helping me with some work and it's just a little tricky. Everything's fine." She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked away once more, shrugging one of her shoulders in the process, and you knew it was time to call bullshit.

"You know I can tell when you're lying your ass off, right?" She chuckled at your words and nodded. "So do you maybe want to try the truth this time?"

"I've just been doing some thinking and Brittany's been there to offer advice. Don't worry about it, I'm honestly alright." That was closer to the truth, but she was still holding something back.

However, you weren't going to pressure her for anymore. It was kind of her to even tell you that when she didn't have to, so it as best to quit while you were ahead. You nodded and fought back the overwhelming need to support her through whatever troubles she was facing.

"If you need anything, you know you can always ask me, right?" you offered after a moment's pause.

Last you had spoken to Quinn, she was falling apart at the seams. You knew that in her head she was spiralling out of control, thinking over every little thing, considering every option, recalling every scenario, and struggling to keep her life in check. All of that had to, not only, be draining mentally but physically, too. So, when you saw her looking stressed out and haggard with Brittany, you couldn't help yourself from wondering about the girl. You just wanted to be there for her.

"I know, and thank you, but you can't help me with this," Quinn replied, giving you a sad smile, her defences falling. It hurt to know you couldn't help, but you should have expected as much. "So now that we've started down this depressing route, anything else you want to ask me?" It was a joke, and she held a humourless smile in place, but actually, yes there was.

"You couldn't hang out with me around Rachel?" you wondered, not really having a problem with it, but you hated the idea of having to hang out with them separately all the time. When Brittany was there to be a buffer, it seemed to work fine, but you knew Brittany wouldn't always be around, and you wanted to sort it out as soon as possible.

"I could have, but I just…I wanted to avoid that for as long as possible," she answered, her eyes staring off at the stage, mindful not to look in your direction. It was probably better she didn't see your reaction anyway, as you were sure she wouldn't like the frown in your brow one bit.

"Avoid what exactly?"

"You and her." She said it so simply, as if it was obvious, but it hit a nerve with you, and you sighed rather loudly, shaking your head as you did so.

"Q, we've been through this, we're friends, best friends. That's it," you stated, trying hard not to get annoyed with her about this.

"You know that's not true, San. I know you're aware of how she feels about you," she replied, still looking away, still sounding so blasé about the whole thing.

"Okay, maybe I am, and don't let her know that because I don't want it jeopardising our friendship, but so what? She has feelings for me, not the other way around."

"Really? Do you honestly believe that?" Quinn asked sharply, finally turning to look at you, finally giving you eye contact, finally allowing you to see the pain behind her eyes, the overwhelming sadness that sat there, and the terrifying sight of defeat.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"I'm not blind, Santana. I can see what is happening, whether you're aware of it or not. You're no longer looking at her the way you used to. It's changed. You're seeing her as more than just a friend, and I know that look because you had it for Brittany, for me, and now her."

Her words hit you like a bucket of cold water, and you sat, frozen, for a moment. You swallowed back the lump in your throat and shook your head some more, needing to eject those words from your brain.

"No, no, you're wrong, Q," you said, this time being the one to avoid making eye contact.

"The fact of the matter is, she can give you things I can't. She can be out and open, and I know that's what you want. I can't do that. It's selfish, it's selfish of me to want to keep you to myself, to keep you hidden, to hope you'll still love me despite my reluctance. But I can't help it. I'm trying, I really am, but it doesn't change anything. She's selflessly in love with you, and I'm selfishly flawed, desperate to hold onto your heart until I can be out…if I can be out."

You sat there stumped. You had no clue what to say. Everything she had said was technically true, but it was false at the same time. She was flawed, she was being selfish, but it didn't change anything. You were still in love with her, you still thought about her every day, you still wished it was her you were cuddling up and watching movies with on your Friday nights, you still hoped it would be her lips you could kiss goodnight, good morning, and good afternoon.

Hearing a slight sniffle from next to you, you looked over sharply and saw her wiping tears off her cheeks frantically and trying hard to stay composed. She never did like anyone to see her cry. It looked to be in vain, as more tears ran down her cheeks, and Quinn made the move to get up, leaving her bag on the floor next to you.

You weren't having that. The two of you were so good at running away from your problems. You just couldn't have her leave, especially not when she was upset. Acting fast before she made it to the end of the row, you followed her and spun her body back round to face you. As if on instinct, the second you pulled her into your body, she dropped her face into the crook of your neck and clung to you, her body shaking from fighting back the need to cry. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you felt that she needed to know, but you knew she wouldn't hear it, she would need to calm down before she heard anything. So you stood, holding her tightly, desperately wishing you could take her pain away.

While her opinions once were wholly inaccurate, you couldn't help but admit some things had changed. The way you were looking at Rachel, the way you were seeing her, was not what it used to be, and Quinn was right.

Quinn was also wrong, however. When you saw yourself in a relationship, walking down the hallways with your girlfriend's hand in yours, it was Quinn's hand you were holding. When you saw yourself going on dates out and about in Lima, they were with Quinn. When you saw yourself whispering I love you in the dark of night, it was to Quinn, not Rachel.

There was no way for you to effectively tell her that, though. You could try and try and try, but Quinn would never believe it. Her insecurities ran too deep, and you couldn't fault her for that. She was scared of losing you, of having you slip through her fingers because of fear, and her thinking and actions were skewed from it.

If only she could feel what you feel when you held her like this, then she'd know she has nothing to worry about. It would take more than what couldn't even be described as a crush to have you moving on from her. Hell, in your eyes, you still hadn't lost Quinn. You were just waiting.

All you had to do was bide your time, and it would fall into place. It had to. You needed it to because there was just no way you could leave this girl behind. And yes, it didn't make sense. The two of you were off to different colleges next year, and long distance relationships aren't easy, but fucking hell, you loved her.

Love does not fix everything, does not excuse every action, and does not automatically make one happy, but it was worth it. And loving Quinn, it was worth all the pain, all the heartache, all the tears, if you only got to have her in your arms for that split second.

But holding her there, hearing and feeling her fall apart from all the heartache and pain, had you wondering if she felt the same. Were you worth all this misery?

*0*0*


	16. Chapter 16: Progression

A.N.- Sorry for the delay in updates. Next chapter will be posted much sooner, promise. And sorry for any mistakes in the chapter, I'm on pain meds and groggy. I'll fix it tomorrow.

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Progression

*0*0*

After the conversation you had with Quinn in the auditorium, you were giving each other space. It was to help her think about everything that she was working through, which you still had no clue about, but it also gave you a chance to think things over.

You had battled with the issue of being worthy of Quinn for so long, of feeling like you were anything compared to her, struggling to hide your shame and guilt and being her dirty secret, and constantly feeling like the corrupter, poisoning the fallen angel and pulling her into your depths of hell. She was, and will no doubt always be, a fallen angel in your eyes, so full of grace, but she's also just a girl.

Your mind needed to remember that. She was just a girl. Yes, she was the girl you had fallen in love with, the one you were not willing to leave behind, no matter the circumstances, but she was just a girl. She had flaws, many of which you were aware of, and she was not perfect. However, neither were you. You held yourself up to a higher esteem, Quinn's esteem, and that was foolish, because neither of you were going to match what it had become in your head.

This realisation, this thought, that actually the two of you were just two lost souls, fumbling in the dark and finding one another at the right moment, rather than good versus bad, light versus dark, virtue versus vice, angel versus demon, made everything clearer.

You were worthy of her love. You were. This notion that you couldn't be with her, you couldn't love her because she was better than you needed to stop immediately. That wasn't the case. You were a much stronger, braver, person than the foolish girl who believed Quinn's innocent persona meant she was above reproach.

And right now was no time for you to start doubting yourself when it came to her.

She was struggling. Anyone could see it a mile off. But, she kept to her secretive talks with Brittany, and she smiled at you in the hallways as if nothing was wrong, and you smiled back in the hope that would be the day she told you what was really going on. You doubted she ever would, but that was just Quinn, and really, you had to be thankful she was at least seeking help somewhere.

Thank God for Brittany.

Seeing the two of them at the end of the hallway on that Wednesday morning, you received your bright and cheery smile from Brittany, accompanied by a wave as she passed, and then a softer, more relaxed smile from Quinn, making your insides ignite in warmth and elation. She probably wasn't even aware your body still lit up around her, and as she moved out of sight, you bit back a sigh at how there was so much she didn't know when it came to your emotions towards her.

If only she did, then things might be easier.

Giving up on that line of thinking before it landed you in trouble, you continued on your way through the hallway to your locker. Once there, you did the routine book change, and casually eavesdropped on the conversations around you. This was the best time of the morning to catch up on gossip, and your fellow students were not letting you down.

It was through this grapevine you learnt of your peers growing interest in the friendship between Rachel and yourself, many convinced you two were dating, and Quinn apparently being pregnant again. Last you checked, you couldn't knock a girl up, so that was most definitely false. Though, it did make you wonder why they thought that. Nothing they were saying gave any indication, however, so you were going to have to find out another way.

Glancing round the hallway to see if Brittany had maybe came back, she was nowhere to be seen, but then your eyes met Rachel. Upon seeing her, you frowned. She looked like shit. She had bags under her eyes, she was yawning and she looked to be sleepwalking her way over. The pregnancy rumour would have to wait, you wanted to know what was up with your friend first.

"Why are you so tired?" you asked as soon as she stopped by your locker, forgoing the usual greetings.

"I'm being haunted," Rachel replied, shrugging one shoulder and raising her hand to hide her yawn. You groaned as you automatically started yawning too, and hope that stopped fast.

"You're what?" You'd heard what she'd said, and although you were used to weird things going on, this felt like too much.

"A ghost is haunting me. Okay, stop looking at me like I'm crazy. I'm not."

"Uh huh," you mumbled, closing your locker door and leaning back on it.

"Santana, I'm serious. I went to bed last night and after forty minutes I awoke to hear a meowing noise. I do not own a cat!" Rachel cried, the lack of sleep clearly having got to her.

"Did you look out your window?" you enquired, feeling like a fool for even considering for one second that there was a ghost of a cat haunting her.

"Of course I did! There was no cat to be seen. But as soon as I was up, the meowing stopped, and then when I lay back down, it started up again. Someone's poor dead pet doesn't want me to sleep!" Rachel looked dejected as her shoulders slumped, and if the bags under her eyes weren't so prominent, you would have laughed in her face.

"You're fucking crazy. It was probably your neighbour's cat or something."

"Not unless they were in my room, it was that loud!" Rachel argued, pouting afterwards, and you frowned at her explanation. You had a suspicion, but it was crazy.

"Did you search your room?"

"Why would a cat be in my room?" Rachel asked, looking at you like you were stupid. Pft, please. You weren't the one being stalked by a cat. Dead or alive.

"I don't know, but you should check." You were now certain she'd find one.

"I'm sticking with my theory."

"Of course you are," you muttered, knowing that you were going to have to talk to Brittany sooner rather than later if Rachel was convinced there was no cat in her room.

Lord Tubbington was such a creepy little bastard, and Rachel had no idea.

Leaving that conversation there, the two of you caught up on other things going on as heading to her locker, and agreed to meet at such before the bell rang. You went off to your classes and prepared for another monotonous day ahead, occasionally wondering about the blonde in the other rooms, and how much you missed her presence.

You were such a love sick fool, it was pathetic.

*0*0*

After lunching with Rachel, only to be ditched half way through because she just had to talk to Mr. Schue about regionals, you went back to your locker to prepare for your afternoon classes, with the idea that you could find Brittany before then.

You still wanted to ask her what was up with the pregnancy rumour running round about Quinn, and you also needed to find out if Lord T had done a disappearing act on her. However, as you moved towards the Cheerio locker room in your search to find her, she found you.

"San!" You turned round to see Brittany grinning happily at the end of the hallway, waving you over, and did just that. "Are you free tonight?" she asked as soon as you were in earshot without her yelling.

"Free as a bird," you replied, cherishing her enthusiasm over nothing. Things had been so heavy and difficult lately, it was hard to be happy about the small things.

"Great! Can you help me?" As if you could turn that down. However, you had to be careful. Last time you agreed to help Brittany with something without asking what it was first you found yourself searching the field behind her house for fairies and gnomes. That was not happening again.

"With what, B?" She smirked at your question and you just knew she was remembering you screaming your lungs out when you came across a snake rather than a gnome.

"Lord Tubbington."

"What's he done now?" You were pretty sure you knew, but it was best to check anyway.

"He's missing. I think he might be in trouble, he never goes this long without eating." Brittany showed genuine concern and frowned, unhappy with this thought, and you immediately wanted to put her mind at ease.

"I…I think I might know where he is." You had been hoping it wasn't the case, but apparently the little shit had decided to stalk Rachel.

"You do? How?" She looked hopeful at your words.

"Just something Rachel said," you mused, frowning at the absurdity of it all. "So yeah, we can go pick him up after school."

"Awesome, I knew you were the right person to come to."

"So…how come you don't know where he is? I thought you just knew everything?" You felt like an asshole but you were curious. She had confessed to just knowing things, and now there seemed to be boundaries to what she knew so it was only fair you enquired as to how that worked.

Regardless, Brittany didn't seem offended by your question and shrugged her shoulder, showing how unsure she was.

"I don't really know," she began. "Lord Tubbington is different, and I can't tell what he gets up to. I secretly think he's a human stuck inside a cat's body, as punishment for something, but don't let him know. I don't want him getting annoyed with me." You smiled, accepting her answer and not wanting to push your luck by pestering her with questions.

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Thanks!" Reaching out, she hugged you quickly and then turned to leave, giving you a wave on her way, to which you suddenly remembered why you had been searching for her.

"Britt, you don't happen to know why people think Q is pregnant again, do you?" The shocked look on her face made you think this was a surprise to her as much as you, for which you were glad. At least that wasn't the reason Quinn was spending so much time with her, working through things.

"She's not," Brittany said immediately. "Don't think she's done anything because-"

"I wasn't…I hadn't thought that." Yet.

You probably would have jumped to that conclusion at some point, knowing you, but at least you now had the reassurance that it wasn't true.

"Good," Brittany replied, smiling at you as though she was proud. You were sure you'd read that emotion wrong, because there was nothing to be proud of. Not in your eyes anyway. "I can't think of any reason why people would think that, San, but don't worry about it, okay?"

"I won't…I just wanted to know why but it doesn't matter."

"She'd never do that to you," Brittany added, giving you a sad half smile, and you nodded in return.

You didn't think she would, but it wasn't every day that a rumour like that spread round the school. Most of the time people had some kind of proof before spewing out bullshit, so this was just completely leftfield.

Waving Britt goodbye, you pushed those thoughts out your head and went in search of the girl herself. You weren't going to ask her about it. No way. You only wanted to see her. Yes, you had seen her that morning, but you were addicted to this girl. It wasn't your fault, it was hers and her mesmerising hazel eyes that sucked you in and stole your heart. Absolutely not your fault; there's no defence against that.

Quinn was much easier to find than Brittany had been, and you found her in the Library. This place seemed to be some home away from home for her, and while you didn't want to intrude when you saw her nose buried in a book, she had no qualms nodding you over. That made you smile and a flicker of hope swell in your chest.

"What are you up to tonight?" you asked, ignoring the pleasantries once again. Fifty Words may have turned you into a better person but it had thrown your manners out of the window.

"Nothing, why?" Quinn replied, tucking a bookmark in her page and place the book to the side, giving you her full attention. You admired the way her eyes flickered over your face, and her mask disappeared. Now the two of you could talk.

"We're going on a hunt for Lord Tubbington. He's made another famous escape. You want to come?" She looked a little unsure, and you knew exactly why.

Quinn would surely remember Lord T's last famous escape which you both had been dragged in to help; his ingenious idea to climb out Brittany's window and get stuck on the garage room, unable to jump down. He was there three days before being found, and then it required the three of you to thieve the neighbours ladder, climb up and get him. All of you were left with lasting war wounds. That was so not happening again or you were going to skin the bugger alive.

"We?" Q asked, biting her lip and cocking her head to the side.

"Brittany and I, but we're probably going to Rachel's house as I'm pretty certain he's living in her bedroom somewhere."

"That's…weird." She frowned, but a smile crept up her lips as she did so, and you found yourself smiling back.

"Yeah, he's a freaky little bastard," you agreed, shrugging one shoulder. You had long stopped trying to work out Lord T's motives in life. "So do you want to come?"

The clincher in this situation was Rachel's involvement. While you knew Rachel wouldn't have any issue with Quinn coming as they were trying to patch things up, Q was different. She had purposely gone out of her way to avoid seeing you around her, and you wondered if that action was still standing.

"Sure, I'd like that," she replied, nodding softly, and your chest swelled with relief and elation.

"Me too." Quinn chuckled at your response and picked up her book, trying to ignore how you were now biting your lip to hide your smile, and failing miserably at doing so.

She shoed you away with her hand and you went willingly, thankful for the time you did have with her there, and with a slight spring in your step. Every interaction with her lately just felt like things were going in the right direction. Finally.

*0*0*

That evening, after school, the four of you made your way over to Rachel's to sort out the mess with Lord Tubbington. It was ridiculous, but it somehow turned into a strange bonding trip. Initially, you were worried about Quinn and Rachel getting on, but there didn't seem to be any problems at all. The two of them were talking like nothing was wrong, and it eased some of your worries.

Then you realised you were actually going to be spending time at Rachel's, which hadn't happened much since becoming friends with her, and while normally you wouldn't care, you had found out her fathers were going to be home.

That was just the worst news ever, and the nerves and dread you experienced on the drive over didn't help at all. Of course, nothing had prepared you properly for actually spending time with the Berry men. Both were lovely, and pretty hilarious, but you could see they didn't trust you one bit, you or Quinn from the looks of it, but yet adored Brittany. Who didn't love Brittany?

Rachel took pity on you, thankfully, and fobbed an excuse to get everyone upstairs, leaving her fathers to their own devices. You did not miss the thank you Quinn muttered to her on the way upstairs, and did the same when you passed her, to which she chuckled and shook her head.

"One of these days, I will get my fathers to like you."

"Not going to happen," you replied, knowing a lost cause when you saw one.

"I'll die trying."

"You do that." It would probably be easier that way.

When the four of you entered Rachel's bedroom, Brittany bounced onto the bed like she owned the place, and Quinn stood anxiously by the wall, unsure. You reached out, taking her hand in yours and gave it a squeeze, dragging her over to the bed and pushing Britt over. Quinn looked even more unsure, but she followed your lead and took a seat, both your legs dangling off the end of the bed and brushing against each other.

Rachel went to her wardrobe, and had a hunt through it, all the while talking to Brittany about the absurdity of this entire situation. Only after a thorough search did she stop and drop herself dejectedly into her desk chair.

"I told you, Santana, I'm being haunted by a dead cat," she said, shaking her head pitifully.

Quinn, having only heard the cliff notes of this in the car over, frowned in confusion and looked to you for an explanation. It so wasn't worth it, so you waved your hand and brushed it off. She was saner not knowing.

"No you're not. The little bastard is in this room somewhere, you just have to find him."

"Brittany, do you really think Lord Tubbington is here?" Rachel asked, ignoring you completely.

"I don't know, but he does like you and he does get addicted to things easily," she replied, shrugging her shoulder.

That was enough to have you raising your arm as if to say 'I told you so!' Rachel did not look amused and began nattering on about how there weren't many places for him to hide. Quinn was happy enough to fill her in on how much of a ninja Lord T could be when he wanted to be, meaning you didn't have to. Squeezing her hand in thanks, you smiled her way and were happy to see her smiling back.

Knowing it was best to get up and help, you refrained from affectionately kissing Q's hand before letting it go, because really, that would be too much for 'friends' to do, and slipped off the bed. Rachel put on some music and designated areas for Brittany and you to search. She clearly could tell Q was uncomfortable so asked her to watch over everything, in case he snuck out while they weren't looking. It was sweet of her, and you filed away thanking her for her inclusion of Quinn later on.

"Found him!" Brittany cried about thirty minutes later, reaching for him and practically dragging his fat ass out from under the bed. You frowned because you had searched there and he was nowhere to be seen. Ninja. Creepy ass ninja cat.

"Okay, I think I would have preferred it being a ghost," Rachel whispered to you, all eyes on Lord Tubbington who was staring right at Rachel. Brittany was oblivious to his diverted attention as she cooed in his coat and kissed his head.

"It probably would have been safer it was a ghost. You're going to have to keep your windows shut and your doors closed to keep him out."

"Should I be scared?" she asked, continuing in a hushed voice.

"I would be," you admitted, relieved you were not in her place. The last thing you needed was a deaf cat stalking your ass. There was enough going on already.

"Maybe I could get a dog," she mused.

"Doubt that would word. Lord T is a ninja."

"I need to talk to Brittany." You laughed and revelled in the frown marring her features, enjoying the absurdity of it all, before turning to check on Q.

She was smiling at you, mask nowhere to be seen, and not the least bit on edge from the conversation she'd witnessed between Rachel and yourself. You could only take that to mean she wasn't jealous or doubting your affections for her. Another moment of good news for you, then.

With Lord T found safe and well, and given all of you were there, Rachel extended the offer of dinner, and only after you found out you wouldn't be eating with her fathers, did you agree to stay. Brittany said yes immediately, with Quinn agreeing shortly after. It seemed she wasn't as confident of having dinner with Rachel alone on Rachel's turf. Though, you couldn't blame her.

After dinner, and as there was plenty of time before curfew for all of you, Brittany suggested a movie, and that's how you found yourself in Rachel's basement watching another Disney film surrounded by them, and Lord T, of course. It felt oddly strange, but you weren't going to complain. You had wanted everyone to be friends, and it certainly seemed like that was happening.

When it came time to leave, you tried to ignore the happy smiles on the Berry men's faces as you grabbed your things and made to say goodbye. Okay, so they didn't' like you, didn't mean they had to be pleased to see you go. Though, you couldn't blame them. Up until several months ago, you were constantly belittling Rachel at every chance you got. So yes, you could understand their hesitance when it came to you. At least Quinn was enduring the same treatment, however.

Brittany received permission to stay at Rachel's, which you were sure had something to do with Lord Tubbington's creepy attachment to the girl, but you didn't question it. The Berry men certainly weren't going to protest her staying on a school night, but you knew you never would have been allowed. Sucks to be hated by your best friend's parents, that's for sure.

After hugging both Rachel and Brittany goodnight, and giving Lord T a wide birth, you led Q to your car. You were going to drop her off home, and Brittany was going to pick her up for school in the morning as her car had been left there.

Being alone and in a confined space with her had gone from making you indifferent, to turned on, to terrified, to now anxiously excited. The girl had far too much control over your emotions, and you could only be thankful that she didn't take advantage of that fact.

The ride to her house was spent in mostly silence, with the odd comment now and then on homework and Cheerios, and it felt awkward. This wasn't exactly the emotion you were going for, but there was nothing you could do. Q's mask was up and rooted in place, and you knew better than to try and take it off her. That defence mechanism was the only thing holding her together.

Pulling up in her driveway, you turned off the car so she didn't get the impression you were rushing her out the vehicle, and you eyed the house. The porch light had been left on and you could see through the living room blinds that the lights in there were on. Her parents were probably waiting up for her.

However, despite knowing she was cutting it close to her curfew on a school night, Quinn remained in the car. You shot her a confused look, wondering why the silence was dragging on, and she rolled her eyes; you could only assume it was at her own ridiculousness.

"Thanks for tonight," she said quietly, biting her lip as she glanced out the window before back at you. You went to say no problem and brush it off, because really, it wasn't an issue and you enjoyed having her, but then she stole the words right out of your mouth.

Unbuckling her seatbelt and turning in her seat, Quinn glanced at the house quickly, then back at you. She placed one had on the console and moved forward, the other coming up to cup your cheek in her hand, turning your head slightly as she did so. Her lips brushed the side of your mouth, too close for a 'friendly' kiss, but not close enough to push boundaries. You remained frozen in your seat, fighting the whimpering at the simple kiss, soft, fleeting, but very much there as she moved back.

"Night, Santana," Quinn murmured, nodding once and then booking it for the door.

"Night, Q," you replied, internally screaming at the progression that had just taken place.

She had just kissed you on the cheek in your car, which was parked in her driveway, outside her house. That was huge!

Watching her run inside and shut the door behind her, you let out a shaky breath and smiled.

Whatever she was working through, it seemed to be helping, and god almighty, it gave you hope that things might actually work out.

*0*0*


	17. Chapter 17: Time To Think

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Time To Think

*0*0*

You had been asleep, curled up under your covers and oblivious to the world when your phone had gone off. The vibrating against your bedside table and the obnoxious blaring of the ringtone was enough to pull you from your sleep, and leave you cranky at the intrusion.

Reaching out blindly, you grabbed the phone and shut your eyes tighter at the blinding light it was emitting. Once you had it in hand properly, you squinted enough to see the answer button on screen and sloppily pressed it.

"Hello?" you asked, still not fully awake and still too tired to enter Snix mode.

"Santana, it's Brittany, are you awake?" Your body relaxed at the sound of her voice, and Snix was no longer needed.

"I am now. What is it? Did Lord Tubbington escape again? He'll be at Rachel's house. I told you, he likes to stalk her-" you began, yawning tiredly. That fucking cat was causing so many problems. Brittany needed to chain him up or something, because she was not going to go looking for him anymore.

"No, it's about Quinn. Can you sneak out tonight?" As soon as Quinn's name was mentioned, you sat up in your bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, willing yourself to wake up properly.

"What about Quinn?"

"Santana, can you sneak out? I'll be there in ten minutes to pick you up if you can," Brittany said, ignoring your question.

"Yeah, I can do that. Now tell me, what's wrong with Quinn?"

"Good, I'll see you then."

Without wasting a second, Brittany hung up and you were left holding the phone to your ear, your heart beating frantically and the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Throwing the phone onto the bed next to you, you slipped out from under your covers and raced over to your wardrobe so you could put some proper clothes on.

Once dressed warmly for the weather, keys, cash, and phone in hand, you opened your bedroom door and listened to the sounds of your house. Your parents should definitely be asleep, as they both had to be up early for their shifts, which meant this wasn't going to be too hard. You only had to make sure you didn't make too much noise and wake them.

Sneaking out into the hallway, you closed your door as quietly as possible and tiptoed towards the stairs. Again, you quietly stepped down them, praying that you were in fact missing the squeaky part of the steps, before landing at the bottom, adrenaline coursing through your system.

From there on out, it was easy. You headed to the backdoor and unlocked it, then stepped outside, locking the door behind you. The cold night's air hit your skin harshly and you shivered, but made quick work of darting round the house to the double parked car waiting for you.

Brittany opened the door on your approach and you slipped into the passenger seat, holding the door closed until a few houses down before closing it properly. The two of you had perfected that routine on the nights one of you were grounded and a party or sex was to be had. Nothing could keep the two of you apart, and this familiar scenario had you thinking nostalgically on what once was. Thank God, you could still be friends with Britt.

"So what's going on with Quinn? You're kinda scaring me," you confessed, turning in your seat to look at Brittany while she drove, fumbling to put on your seatbelt in the process.

She was in her pyjamas, long plaid trousers and a hoodie, with her hair recklessly falling over her shoulders. The bags under her eyes implied she'd been woken up mid-sleep, and that had your heart rate picking up further. You needed to know what was going on.

"You don't need to be scared, we just need to go pick her up," Brittany replied, eyes on the road still.

"Pick her up? It's almost two in the morning. Why are we picking her up? Did she call you?"

"No, she didn't call me, but I just know we need to go get her."

"Brittany, this isn't making sense," you mumbled, running a hand through your hair. You just wanted explanations.

Before you could continue, your phone began ringing again, and you sucked in breath through your teeth, fearing it was your parents. You were sure you had been quiet enough to sneak out, but maybe you hadn't. Maybe they'd heard the car door shut or maybe they'd seen you leave out their bedroom window. Fuck.

Blindly answering your phone without looking at the screen, you prepared for the worst.

"Hello?" you asked, somewhat anxiously in case it was your mother or father getting ready to yell at you. It wouldn't be the first time, that was for sure.

"Santana, it's Rachel. You need to go to Quinn's house. I don't know exactly what's happening and I can't get in touch with Brittany but you should head over there as soon as poss-" You sighed in relief as soon as she spoke, and sinking back in the chair, you shot a relieved smile at Brittany, who had been watching with a nervous frown. She knew just how Dr. and Dr. Lopez could get when you snuck out.

"Britt and I are already on our way there," you answered, easing Rachel of her fears.

She must have seen something. She had to have, otherwise how the hell could she have known? Brittany just knew things, Rachel saw them. For the both of them to find out, that had to mean something big was going down, and that made your stomach queasy with the thought.

"You are?" Rachel asked, surprise in her voice.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, good. Quinn needs people right now, so I'm glad you and Brittany are going."

"What did you see exactly?" you practically demanded.

"Santana, it really doesn't matter. You should go, go be with Quinn, she needs you. Have a safe night, and I'll talk to you tomorrow. Okay?" A part of you couldn't believe she was blowing you off like that, but another part knew better than to ask in the first place.

"Rachel, please, tell me," you begged, needing to try again, to know what was happing, how Quinn was, if only to ease the feeling in your gut from getting worse and worse with each passing second.

"I can't. It's not my place. Goodnight Santana," Rachel said, her voice small, unsure.

"Night." You ended the phone call with a sigh and shook your head. What the hell was with your friends keeping important things from you?

Brittany didn't looked surprised by this turn of events, and she avoided your eye contact throughout the drive. When the two of you finally arrived, you couldn't help but wonder if they had been wrong. The house didn't look like anything out of the ordinary was going on inside it, and the neighbourhood appeared to be like every other at two in the morning in Lima, quiet and peaceful.

Once the car was off, Brittany opened her door to get out and you tried to do the same, only to have her reach over the console and tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. You looked back, surprised, and wondered what was going on.

"Stay in the car," Brittany said, her tone firm and unwavering.

"What? Why?!" This was fucking ridiculous.

"You need to stay in the car. Please, Santana, this is important. You can't go in there. You'll make it so much worse. You need to stay here."

"Brittany, she needs me," you argued, just assuming that Quinn would in fact need you. You needed her right now, so surely it was the same. You needed to know she was okay.

"No, you can't, and I don't have time to explain. So please, promise me you'll stay in the car," Brittany repeated, shaking her head.

"Brittany!"

"Santana!" she cried back, playing you at your game. Normally you could protest enough and she'd give in, but that was clearly not happening as you looked into her eyes. They were strong and bold, ready to take on your challenge as if it was nothing, and you knew you weren't going to win this. She would lock you in the boot of her car if she had to, so it was better to just concede.

"Fine, I promise, but there better be a fucking good reason," you barked, crossing your arms over your chest.

"There is, and you can thank me for it later. Be good and don't you dare break your promise."

So there you sat, fuming in the front seat, watching as Brittany locked you in and darted round the side of the house. You knew exactly what she was up to, and it stung you couldn't go with her. The Fabrays kept a spare key to their back door hidden in their garden, and Quinn had been kind enough to show you both where it was when you were fourteen. You would put your trust fund on Brittany grabbing that spare key and letting herself in.

Tapping your hands on your knees nervously, you waited. There was nothing to see, nothing to tell you what was going on, what with the curtains and blinds shut, making it impossible to know what was happening. Chaos could have been erupting, and you sat there none the wiser.

If promises didn't mean so much to you, you would have gotten out the car and followed Brittany. But you couldn't do that. You knew better than to break a promise to Brittany, and until she returned, you were going to have to sit there and be patient.

A flash of movement at the front door caught your eye and you sat forward, trying to see as much as possible. Quinn came out first, her Cheerio bag overflowing with clothes over one shoulder, another similar looking bag on the other, and in her arms a box. Her hair was hanging over her face as she looked down at the ground, walking blindly towards the car, but you knew from the shakes in her body that she was crying.

The light from the open front door casted outwards on the lawn, encasing her as she moved down the path, and then Brittany appeared behind her, shutting the door, and the light inside. Brittany, too, was carrying bags, but used her free hand to steer Quinn over to the back of the vehicle and unlocked the boot.

You didn't say anything as it opened, and turned in your seat to look at them. Brittany was whispering things to Quinn, receiving the odd nod and shake of her head here and there, but that was it. You couldn't hear what was being said, and you didn't dare interrupt them, wondering if you'd actually end up making things worse.

Closing the boot of the car firmly, Brittany led Quinn to the backdoor and opened it for her. Quinn sat down herself, wrapping her arms around herself in the process, and Brittany had to lean round her to put her seat belt on her. Closing the door as softly as possible, Brittany moved round the car and crawled in the back with Quinn, much to your surprise. Where you all really going to sit there in Quinn's driveway?

"I need you to drive. Take us back to mine," Brittany called, throwing you the keys between the seats and you struggled to catch them in time. So that answered that question.

There was no room to argue, as much as you wanted to crawl in the backseat and console Quinn, Brittany had already beaten you to that and was holding her.

You did your best to climb over the console and slide into the driver's seat, foregoing getting out the vehicle, and you turned on the car as fast as possible, desperate to leave. It didn't take you long before you were reversing into the street and heading towards Brittany's house.

In the back, Quinn had buried her head in the crook of Brittany's neck, while the other blonde held her tight and continued to whisper things to her. You tried to hear what was being said once more, but it was as if Britt knew because she asked you to turn the radio up. You couldn't exactly argue, so did as you were told, and resigned yourself to the fact that you just weren't meant to hear.

Brittany would explain it all, you just had to be patient.

Fucking hell, that was not an easy lesson to learn, and if Fifty Words hadn't helped it, you seriously doubted you'd master patience in the next ten minutes.

However, you were doing an important job, you told yourself as you drove, and it was with a relieved sigh, you parked the car in Brittany's drive minutes later. Unsure whether or not you were to get out, you waited until Brittany had taken Quinn inside the house, leaving her things in the car, before stepping out the vehicle.

The front door had been left ajar, and the lights lit up the lawn as you leant against the driver's door, waiting for Brittany to come back. She'd either be taking you home or letting you come inside, and as much as you longed for it to be the latter, you knew better than to get your hopes up.

When she did return, and closed the door behind her, you feared the worse. However, she just gave you a sad smile and then encased you in her arms. It wasn't until you had your head buried in her neck that you were upset, close to tears even. Where the hell had this come from?

"She's okay, relax. She's fine. She's safe now," Brittany murmured, rubbing your back soothingly and letting you grip her hoodie tight between your fingers.

With her words, the emotions made sense, and the feeling of dread seeped out your body and disappeared. You had been so scared, so terrified for her, and you hadn't even gotten a chance to check Quinn was alright. But Brittany said she was, Brittany said she was safe, and that's all that mattered.

"What happened?" you choked out, frantically trying to wipe the stray tears away.

"They kicked her out. So she'll be staying with me now, for however long she needs to," she replied, flittering her gaze from yours, as if knowing you wouldn't be happy with that response.

"What happened, Britt?" you asked again, pleading with her, desperately needing to know why they kicked her out. You had a suspicion, you had a thought, but it almost seemed too scary to think about.

"We should go inside and talk," Brittany said, taking your hand and leading you towards the house. This did nothing to settle your nerves, but you followed.

The lights were on in the living room and kitchen when you entered, with the upstairs of the house in darkness. You chanced a look around to see if Britt's parents were awake but you couldn't see or hear them. As if knowing, well she did know, what you were thinking, Brittany filled you in.

"I told my parents before I left that Quinn would be coming back to stay with us. She's in the spare bedroom, and they are going to talk to her tomorrow. They don't want to make things worse for her tonight," she whispered, leading you towards the study in the back of the house.

Opening the door, you heard the familiar hissing of Lord Tubbington as Brittany pushed him back inside, and let you enter. She waited until she had locked the study door before releasing his collar, and the cat went dashing back to hide underneath the couches. Clearly he was still under house arrest after his last escape.

Taking a seat on the other couch, you curled up into the arm and pulled the blanket over you, desperate to just be wrapped up warm and tight and forget about everything that was going on. Brittany gave you a sad smile as she approached, and you let her fall into your side, curled up in the blanket with you.

You suspected that if Quinn was willing, she would be upstairs comforting her instead. But knowing Quinn like you did, she would be trying to piece together her mask, pretending she wasn't hurting and desperate to be alone.

"So what happened, Britt? Or are you not going to tell me?" you asked after a moments of silence. You just needed to know Quinn was okay, and depending on what happened tonight, she might not be.

You knew Russell Fabray ruled with an iron fist, whether Q would tell you as much, and you knew Judy Fabray was too meek and docile to stand up to him. The reign of terror and fright she lived in, one you were fully aware of but one that was never spoken of, had to have a bigger affect than what you had seen. And after the last time she was kicked out and how horrible that was, you knew the emotional scars of this one would be bad. But, fingers crossed it was only emotional scars.

So you needed to know. You couldn't handle the thought of her being hurt and choosing to be by herself. You needed to know what you were dealing with for when you went upstairs and made it clear to her that you were never going to leave her, no matter the emotional issues she was going to be dealing with.

Brittany just had to tell you.

"They know she's gay. I don't…there were too many emotions and thoughts for me to pick up exactly what happened, so I don't know if she told them or they found out, but they know. Her father kicked her out, her mother was just in a daze."

"They didn't…he didn't hit her or anything ,right?"

"No," Brittany shook her head and gave your hand a squeeze. "It was a lot of yelling and arguing but nothing like that." You nodded and processed this information, but knew it still wasn't good news exactly.

Russell was an intimidating and scary man, and Quinn always bowed under his regime. So for her to have them find out, or for her to have told them, she must have known what she was going up against, and that had to be terrifying for her.

Jesus, your chest just ached with the thought of her going through this.

"Did I…did I pressure her into this?" you wondered.

You had wanted her to come out, but surely she knew you only wanted her to do it when she was ready. You didn't want her to rush things. You didn't want her to force herself to come out just because she thought she was losing you. You thought you had made it perfectly clear that you were going to be there for her, always. But maybe you hadn't. Maybe you'd pressure her and now she was without a home, again, and emotionally distraught. Did you do that to her?

"No! No, not at all," Brittany quickly replied, tugging you to look at her. "You didn't pressure her. Santana, this is what Quinn and I have been talking about these last few weeks. I've been helping her with stuff? Well, this was it. She wanted to come out, she wanted to see how that would work with her beliefs. You didn't pressure her, and she'll tell you the same."

"But she was scared I was going to forget about her for Rachel-"

"She was scared, but she knew you wouldn't, not as long as she made the effort to at least try. Before, she wasn't considering it, but these last few weeks she's been trying, trying to put herself first, her happiness first, and that's why she wanted to come out. It was not you."

You bit your lip and considered her words. It seemed plausible, and you didn't want to sound like one of those people that were convinced everyone's problems revolved around them, but you just weren't sure. You didn't want to hurt Quinn in anyway, and now all you were worried about was having done just that.

"Now you know why I couldn't have you entering the house," Brittany added, shrugging one of her shoulders.

"What do you mean?"

"She told them she was in love with a girl, but she didn't say who. If you had entered, you would have given it away, you would have consoled her like a lover, not a friend, and it would have caused more damage. She had to do this without you. She had to do it on her own so that she never risked resenting you for your involvement," Brittany explained, watching you carefully.

You frowned at her words, and especially at how exact Brittany sounded. It all made sense, yes, and you could understand where the reasoning lay, but it niggled at you.

"You make it sound like you had that all thought out," you finally said, turning to look at her, to gauge her reaction.

Her silence told you enough and you shot her a surprised look. She'd planned it out. She'd thought it all through. She'd known. She had known and hadn't said anything. She hadn't warned you. She hadn't warned Quinn. She knew and yet didn't say a word. Okay, you shouldn't have been surprised that Brittany knew because she knew nearly everything, but this felt wrong. This felt seedy that she didn't tell anyone. Why hadn't she?

"You knew this was going to happen."

"Yeah. I did," she confessed, and you were at least a little thankful for her honestly, but that didn't hold back the glare that was on your face and the overwhelming ache in your chest for being left out of the loop on this.

"And Rachel?" you asked, remembering the phone call in the car. She had known, but her vision could have seen to that. However, her words, they were peculiar now that you think back on it. She said she couldn't get in touch with Brittany, almost as if this was expected.

"I told her my suspicions a few weeks ago. I could sense something was coming, but I didn't know when it was going to happen, just that it would. We agreed that it was best you didn't know ahead of time."

"I could have helped her!" you cried out, pushing her hands away from you. "I could have been there to support her!" How could they both agree to keep this from you? How could they do that? They both knew how much Quinn meant to you. Why, why would they do that?!

"You couldn't have, Santana," Brittany began, shaking her head at you. "Can't you see that she needed to do this on her own? You would have helped her, you would have been standing next to her as she told her parents and it would have gone horribly wrong. Then, in the light of day, she would have looked at you and only remembered her parents' disgust, and it would have ruined your relationship. You couldn't help her. You couldn't have done anything without risking losing her completely."

"You and Rachel both agreed this?" Her reasons made sense, and you hated that they did, because one part of your brain wanted to argue it might not have worked out that way. But, you were arguing with a psychic and the girl who knew everything so it maybe was a lost cause.

"Yes, and the only reason Rachel called you was because she couldn't get through to me and didn't want Quinn being alone."

"But that wasn't your decision to make!"

"And it wasn't yours to make either! Quinn didn't go to you, Santana. She came to me, and she came to me for the exact same reasons Rachel and I withheld that piece of information from you. She knew it would ruin things. So no, you don't get to be angry here." Brittany shook her head in annoyance, and you knew she was losing her patience with you, but come on! The girl you loved was going to get hurt and they didn't tell you! They made it so you couldn't help!

"I'm not…I'm hurt, I'm hurt, Britt, not angry. She's been going through all this and I've been…I just wish I could have helped her," you said, taking a deep breath and trying to control the pain inside.

"You can help her. Help her now," Brittany replied, reaching for your hand once again.

You let her take it, and with a small hug, she pulled you up off the couch. It seemed that was all you were going to get, and while you had a million other questions, you did want to see Quinn. You were desperate to see Quinn.

Plus, you knew Brittany wouldn't tell you anymore, but Rachel damn well would. You'd be having a very interesting conversation with her tomorrow at school, that was for sure.

*0*0*

Sitting in Brittany's spare bedroom, the very one Rachel and you had slept in two weeks ago, Quinn sat at the top of the bed, tissues clenched in her right hand, and her stare vacant. You were watching, wondering when it would happen, when she would say something.

Brittany had left only a few minutes ago, after making sure Quinn didn't need anything, and you had made to leave, too, because she didn't look to want company, but Quinn had grabbed your arm and kept you there. Now, as you were sitting at the bottom of the bed, you couldn't help but wonder why.

A part of you wanted to crawl up the bed, hold her to you tightly, take all her pain away, but it was futile. She was shut down, closed in on herself, and you wouldn't be able to penetrate that shell with a fucking atomic bomb. Girl was numb, and she'd only come back to the land of the living when she felt like it.

Regardless, a part of you couldn't help yourself, and you advanced, crawling closer, seeing her eyes track your movements. You placed your hand on the bedspread, palm side up, and within seconds, her hand was in yours. That had you smiling. She was still in there, still willing to show you affection.

"Will you just stay with me tonight?" she finally said, sounding raw and even more broken than you anticipated.

"Of course." As if you'd leave her.

With those words, she let go of your hand and moved under the covers, all the while you put the lights out and joined her. Within seconds she was in your arms, holding onto you tightly, breathing you in. There weren't any tears, and you suspected she'd cried herself out, but she was still shaking with vulnerability, and you kissed the crown of her head to ease her fears.

Sleep was unlikely to come to you, but you expected that, so it wasn't a surprise to watch Quinn wake up several hours later from the sound of Brittany's parents moving around the house with a look of surprise on her face, and then recognition.

"Hi," you whispered, caressing her hair away from her face.

"Hi," she croaked back, her voice still sounding sore. "You stayed." She smiled a little at that, and you nodded. "Do you want to hear something crazy?" she then whispered, and you raised your eyebrows in curiosity. "Guess who offered me a place to stay a few weeks ago."

"Who?" You had a suspicion, but you needed to hear it from her. Plus, if Quinn didn't want to talk about last night, you weren't going to push it. If she wanted to talk about other things instead, you would.

"Rachel," she laughed humourlessly, shaking her head against the pillow. "I tortured her for years, and she offered me a place to stay _just in case_ I got kicked out. Just in case. It's like she knew." Quinn bit her lip, and you swallowed anxiously.

You didn't want to add fuel into that fire, and kept the truth to yourself. You didn't need to give Quinn another reason to hate Rachel. But then she went and surprised you.

"Why can't I hate her?" Quinn asked, looking at you for some miracle answer, as if you held the reason she was after.

"Because she's too nice." Yes, you were annoyed she had kept this situation from you, but that didn't make her a horrible person.

"Why, though? Do you know how easy it would be for me if I hated her?" There was a desperation to her voice as she spoke, and you suspected that her issues with Rachel might possibly be tied in with how she was coping in regards to last night.

"How would it be easy? What would that fix?" you asked, unsure whether it was okay to actually ask questions. Quinn didn't seem fazed by it, though.

"Because, the more I see how nice she is, how kind she is, how in love she is with you, I can't help but think I don't deserve you. I don't. She's…and I'm not...I love you but she's…" Quinn wiped at the first tear to fall and then went to hide her face in the pillow. You cupped her face to prevent just that.

"Do I get a say in this?" you whispered, drowning yourself in those hazels.

"What?" She frowned and sniffled, placing one of her hands on your chest, above your heart.

"Do I get a say in who I love?" you repeated, giving her a soft smile to try and lighten things up.

"Of course you do, Santana," Quinn replied, actually rolling her eyes as she did so.

"Then I pick you. _You_. It'll always be you. You think you're selfish, and unkind, and maybe you are, but I still love you. Do you not get that? You don't need to be perfect for me. You don't need to bend over backwards to accommodate me. You don't need to do everything right to be with me. I just want to be with you." She bit her lip hard and you feared she was going to draw blood. "You were so brave coming out last night," you finished, feeling the need to tell her.

Regardless of how that whole situation went down, you were proud of her. Brittany had said she'd told her parents that she was in love with a girl, and that must have taken a lot of courage. So yes, you were damn proud of her, even if she wasn't.

"I was fucking coward, I couldn't even…he just started yelling and I sat and took it-" she began, shaking her head, winding herself back up, her hazels becoming withdrawn and distant.

"Shh," you murmured, pulling her closer to you, holding her body tight against yours, still trying to take her pain away. "You were brave to me."

"I don't know what's going to happen-" she began, and you cut her off once again.

"Relax, we'll work it out tomorrow, okay? Brittany's parents said you can stay here, and she's got your things-" This time, she cut you off.

"I know, she's been stealing from me for weeks. Now I know why."

"She's been stealing from you?" Okay, that took you by surprise. You knew Brittany had been trying to prepare for whatever was coming, but you didn't suspect she'd actually do that. You thought Quinn only had what they managed to grab last night.

"Yeah, she started borrowing my clothes after cheerio practice, or ask to borrow some of my favourite movies, books, CDs, and I know she stole the blanket and soft toy I had for Beth, the baby album I had, but I guess it all makes sense. She took the things I wouldn't have even thought to grab in a rush to get out there."

The sadness in her eyes, the thoughts of last night still plaguing her mind and the hopelessly lost look she was sporting made you act rash. You needed to comfort her, and your words were never enough for Quinn.

Leaning forward, cupping both of her cheeks in your hands, you kissed her lips, softly, gently, and pressed your forehead against hers. She kissed you back, as if desperately grasping onto the contact, the support, before you broke the kiss.

"We'll make sure you get everything you need, okay? I promise you. If I have to break in and rob the place, I will," you said seriously, and she cracked a smile, the first happy one you'd seen since yesterday at school.

"Shush, don't talk nonsense," she swatted your arm as she spoke, and you shook your head.

"I'd do it." And you would, even if the Fabrays changed their locks, you'd still get in and get her things. Puck hadn't taught you how to pick a lock and break a window for nothing.

"I know, I know you would," she said softly, her eyes already looking lighter.

This time she closed the distance, kissing you, as if testing the waters again, and you kissed her back as carefully as possible. Despite the urge to kiss her, devour her, and use your body to take her pain away, you knew you couldn't. This wasn't what the two of you were about anymore, and for that you were thankful.

"I'm going to need some time," Quinn whispered against your lips, having broken the kiss.

"We don't have to decide anything," you replied, swallowing your lust at the taste of her lips once more.

"I know, I just feel like an asshole, fighting so hard to be with you and then when I finally come out I'm saying no." She exhaled and shook her head, looking annoyed with herself, and you caressed her cheek to get her attention. You just need those hazel eyes focused on you and you could make it better. She needed to see your emotions to understand everything.

"Are you saying no, or are you saying not right now?" you asked, begging for it to be the latter, but a part of you knowing that it could be the former. If it was, you'd accept it, and be there for her as best as possible. You just wanted her to be happy, even if that wasn't with you.

"Not right now. Definitely not right now. Never no. I just need time," Quinn replied quickly, her eyes pleading with you to understand. You did, and your heart soared with the thought that she wanted to put herself in the right place before allowing this relationship to start properly. She wanted to try, she just wasn't ready yet.

But she hadn't given up on you completely.

"You can have all the time you need," you answered.

The unspoken words put a shine back in Quinn's eyes, and she nodded, shooting you a thankful smile, pulling your body back to hers. It was obvious, it was crystal clear, so blatant that it practically spoke itself.

You'd wait.

You would always wait for her, no matter what.

*0*0*


	18. Chapter 18: Honesty

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

Honesty

*0*0*

In the wake of Quinn's coming out and sudden loss of a home, she was granted a few days off school, allowing Dr. and Dr. Pierce time to try and smooth things over. After that first night with her, you were cut out from the picture, with Brittany saying Quinn needed to make these steps on her own, and you knowing that if you kept vanishing like you did, your parents would eventually notice your absence. That wasn't something you wanted.

In turn, that's how you found yourself in school, listening to your teachers drone on about God only knows what, with your thoughts miles away. Annoyance and anger were beginning to bubble up under your skin, meaning you shot a lot more glares at the rest of the student body than previous, and your peers were scurrying away from you.

It wasn't their fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, but you were pissed off because Quinn was going through her belongings and writing a list of what she needed to go back and get, and given her age, her parents had no legal obligation to look after her, which meant she was now homeless. The Pierce's had taken her in, but Quinn was going to have to fight for her trust fund, and now she was also without health insurance, and no one was going to be looking after her. You just wanted to be there for her, giving her any support possible.

If she hadn't been blindsided by this, these things could have been planned in advance, a proper system could have been in place to help her, but no. No, you had been kept in the dark, ensuring she wouldn't get your help, and they didn't tell her either for some fucking reason.

_And_ to tick you off even more, Rachel had been avoiding you all morning. She saw you in the hallway first thing, and she turned and went the other way. All attempts after that were met with the sight of her heading in the other direction or engaging in conversation with some member of staff so you couldn't interrupt.

Hell, she even skipped out on the first half of lunch with you.

She knew what was coming, that's all you could assume, and that view was solidified by the sight of her chewing her lip and walking into the auditorium half way through lunch, looking rather skittish.

"We need to talk," you said, pointing out the obvious, and crossing your arms over your chest. "Now."

You weren't going to have her run off again, and yes, she looked to have sought you out, but you wanted her to know you were angry and furious and for fuck sake, why hadn't she told you?

Everything had been building, your frustrations and hurt from being kept out the loop, from not being allowed to help first thing, and now being told to take a step back. They were running the show, and making a piss poor job of it. So it was obvious you were going to rant, to rave at them for what felt like betrayal. Brittany had already endured a few of these conversations, but Rachel, she was meant to be your best friend, and she'd done nothing to help you.

"Yeah, we do," Rachel replied, following you as you moved up onto the stage. You couldn't sit in the seats and have a nice little chat. That just wasn't going to happen. You needed the space the stage provided you with.

"You don't even seem surprised," you remarked, watching her facial expressions carefully.

"Brittany gave me a heads up," she answered, tugging at the sleeves of her jumper.

"Of course she did, the two of you are now in cohorts with each other. I really shouldn't be surprised," you muttered under breath, shaking your head.

"Santana-" Rachel started, looking uncomfortable as she tried to argue, but there was no point. You didn't want to hear what she had to say.

"No. You should have warned me." It was as simple as that, she should have.

"I didn't know!" Rachel called out, clearly growing exasperated by this already.

"You did, Brittany warned you," you ground out, needing to sink that fact in. You were fully aware of everything, so there was no point in her lying to cover up the truth or hide from it.

"No, no. I'm not going to take this. You have no idea what's been going on-" Rachel began to say, but you'd heard enough.

"Because no one fucking told me!"

"Brittany explained to you why we couldn't." She didn't seem hindered by your outburst, and your blood began to boil.

"And? Do you think that makes it all better? Do you think that makes up for the fact that my best friend withheld information from me? You knew I'd want to know that!" you yelled, feeling Snix taking over. You took a shaky breath to try and fight that, because you didn't want to lose control completely, but it was tricky.

"We couldn't tell you," Rachel said, shaking her head, keeping her eyes off yours, staring at the stage floor.

"I wanted to protect her!" you cried, balling your fists.

"And I wanted to protect you!" Rachel shouted back, looking devastated and angry.

"What? What does that- how does-" She cut you off before you had a chance to stumble over that sentence any more than you already had.

"I didn't want you getting hurt! I _don't_ want you to get hurt! Gosh, Santana, do you not get that? My vision only showed Quinn coming out, it didn't show me the ramifications of what would happen, but I trust Brittany implicitly, as you should too, and she said if you knew you would only get hurt. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't watch you get hurt like that, I couldn't sit back and let that happen, so I didn't tell you. I couldn't tell you," she said, still shaking her head, biting her bottom lip hard. "I couldn't see you get hurt, and I know you know why I couldn't do that."

By this point, she looked ready to bolt, but her feet remained firmly planted to the stage floor. You wandered round the piano, putting some distance between the two of you, needing to move around to try and form some sort of semblance to your thoughts.

"When did you find out?" you asked, deciding that was the safest option to take first. It would be better to know when she became aware of you knowing about her feelings for you. Then, you could at least follow up with the correct questions whilst having the right insight to her answers.

"Brittany told me, to stop…she just thought it best I knew that you were aware," Rachel answered, her voice quiet, scared almost, and you moved closer round the piano.

"This doesn't change things," you said, your voice firm as you tried to get her to believe you. You wouldn't let it change things, your friendship with her was important, too important. However, Rachel's humourless chuckle at your words had you thinking it might be too late for this reassurance.

"Doesn't it? You're yelling at me for not telling you that the girl you're in love with was going to have a rough coming out. Are you yelling at me because I'm your friend and should have told you, or are you yelling at me because you think I did this to sabotage your relationship with her?"

You hadn't even considered that, and rightly so. Rachel would never. You didn't need to think it because there was absolutely no way she would do that. She was too selfless, and that would be a complete betrayal. She would never do that to you. Yes, she kept it from you, but not so she could watch the fallout and find the opportune moment to make a move on you.

Jesus, what the fuck were you doing yelling at her?

She was trying to protect you. She _had_ protected you, and if what Brittany said was true, her silence probably saved any relationship you had with Quinn. If she'd wanted to sabotage the two of you, she would have told you right out.

Running a hand through your hair, you dropped your eyes to the floor and took a deep breath. You couldn't see the complete and utter sadness resonating through her gaze at you. You were hurting her, and you needed to shut the fuck up and apologise before she thought you were angry at her for the wrong reason.

Taking careful steps closer, you chewed on your bottom lip for a moment and then reached out and took her hand in yours. The last thing you wanted was her thinking that you were going to treat her differently because of how she felt about you. The two of you were friends, and she had never hinted at pushing past that, so you weren't going to make it a big deal. Things did not have to change. You had to push that point home.

"I'm sorry," you finally said, looking up at her.

"Me too," she replied, swallowing anxiously. "If it wasn't going to end so horribly, I would have told you. I would have, but I couldn't risk it. I couldn't watch you fall apart because of her," she rambled, and the guilt hit you once more.

"Shh, it's fine. I think…I might have overreacted a bit. Venting my anger of the situation at you and Brittany instead. I'm sorry," you repeated, hoping she'd understand.

"It comes with the territory of being your friend. Fifty Words may have changed you, but it was never capable of touching that Lima Heights passion and rage." That was true, and her insight hit the nail on the head, making you feel ridiculous for letting Snix's fire control you.

Chancing a look, you noticed how uneasy Rachel appeared to be, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, and you knew things were a little different now, whether you wanted them to be or not. You had tried so hard for it not to become like this, so there was no way you were going to take this lying down. Still holding her hand, you tugged her closer and wrapped her up in your embrace.

You felt her take a shaky breath in the crook of your neck, and her arms finally respond, letting go of your hand and wrapping around your back. She gave you a soft squeeze, and you cherished this one little moment with her because you knew this was important.

This was as much as it would ever be between you, and maybe before now she still had hope, maybe she could sense there was still a chance for her, but this hug, this hug was reaffirming your friendship, solidifying the fact that you would always love Quinn, and it was the end of any chance there ever was for the two of you to become more than friends. Whatever Brittany foretold was to happen, Rachel clearly knew it meant only friendship ahead with you.

"You'll always be my best friend," you murmured into her hair, needing her to know how true those words were. She gave you a quick nod in reply, and you hoped that she genuinely believed you.

Rachel pulled back first, a move you shouldn't have been surprised by, and wiped down the wrinkles in her clothing. You frowned at the distance she put between the two of you, as if trying to play it safe, and tried to hide your disappointment. Things would be fine. The two of you would be fine.

"Is there anything I can do?" you asked, not really knowing what to say. You wanted to things to go back to how they were, to the easy going nature the two of you had previously, none of this awkward air that hung around them.

"Could you stop making your best friends fall in love with you? I'd really appreciate that," Rachel joked, blinking rapidly to fight back the tears. Your chest ached and you wanted to comfort her, but there was nothing, nothing you could say or do to make this better.

"I'll try. I'm sorry about that," you replied, watching her pull herself back together with a sad smile gracing her lips.

"There's no need to apologise, you're just being yourself." She gave you a look you'd never seen on her before, and it scared you. Her friendship was one of the most important things in your life, you couldn't lose it because of this.

"I'm not going to lose you, right?" you asked, needing to know she was still going to be your friend, still going to stand by you.

"Never. I couldn't…I mean, you were my friend first and foremost, and I knew this would never end well, which is why I didn't…I'm not going anywhere, okay? You're stuck with me," she replied, nodding along, trying hard to convince you.

You believed her, but you had reservations. This had to be hard for her, this had to be a lot harder than you could imagine, yet she was holding everything in so well. Almost too well. How could she handle it? How could she accept Quinn so easily? How was she not enraged with unadulterated anger and venom? How could she stand to bow out gracefully?

"I don't get how you can be so nice to her," you murmured, frowning.

Surely Rachel had seen some of this coming. She must have known that there would be a time where your feelings for Quinn would trump any hopes she had for the two of you, which begged the question, why did she try? Why did she try to be there for Quinn? Why did she offer Quinn a place to stay 'just in case' she got kicked out? Why had she done any of that?

"You love her," she replied simply, shrugging one shoulder, as if that was reason enough. It should have been, but it wasn't.

"Yeah, but I wanted to kill Artie when Brittany and him were dating," you added, shaking your head. You had, you'd wanted to throw him over a cliff and strangle him at times. All of this anger and rage for him seeped into the rest of your life, and there was no way to hide it.

Rachel, though, only gave the odd eye roll here and there and then brushed Quinn off as if she was just an annoying fly buzzing about. She didn't seem particularly enraged at all. How? But then again, maybe she had prepared for this moment ahead of time. Maybe she expected it to turn out this way, regardless of the visions she saw.

"Oh, don't underestimate me, Santana, I have wanted to kill Quinn, I've wanted to murder her at least three dozen times, but…but she makes you happy, and I wouldn't want to jeopardise that." Rachel took another step back, holding her hands anxiously, and hid her eyes from you. You were sure if you could see them you'd catch that flare of anger hidden within. Her voice had been too calm, and maybe you had underestimated her anger and sadness.

The distance between the two of you now was niggling at you. She was physically distancing herself, as well as emotionally hiding her feelings, and it unsettled you more than you'd like to admit. For some reason, this felt like Brittany all over again, except with a worse ending.

"I love you, you know that right? It might not be the way you want me to, but I do love you," you said, mentally pleading with her to look at you. She needed to see the conviction behind your words. She needed to know how true those words were.

"That's all I've ever wanted to hear from you," she whispered, closing her eyes and swallowing.

Your chest ached, and you found yourself taking a step back. She looked to be in so much pain and this was all on you. It wasn't your fault, you knew that, but you wanted to help her. You wanted to help her like you couldn't help Quinn, and yet once again, you couldn't because you'd only make things worse.

"Rach-" you began, being willing to throw the distance out the window and pull her back into your arms, but she stopped you.

"I'm going to go-" she said, opening her eyes and nodding her head.

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, I do," she replied, finally looking at you again. Sadness, so much sadness stared back at you. Within a moment, it was gone, and her eyes were elsewhere. "Someone else wants to talk to you, and I think you'll want to talk to her," Rachel finished, nodding towards the auditorium doors, where Quinn was standing.

You hadn't heard them open, nor were you aware how long she'd been standing there. Not giving you time to reply, Rachel grabbed her bag and made for the exit, while Quinn made her way down the aisle towards you.

They passed each other, and Quinn's hand came out to stop Rachel. The girl's head was down, looking at the floor, as Quinn leant in. From where you were, you couldn't hear what was said, but Rachel nodded, and then Quinn gave her arm a squeeze. Next, the two of them were heading their separate ways, one towards you, the other away, and it felt like a shift had taken place.

You watched Rachel leave the auditorium before whining at the back of your throat, running your hands through your hair again, and sighing. It could have been worse, much worse, but it also could have been better, a lot better. That really wasn't how that conversation was meant to go.

Turning back around, you found Quinn watching you, a worried look on her face, and you remembered she shouldn't have even been in school that day. She was off for the next three days, so there was no need for her to be standing there.

"What are you doing here? Should you really be in school right now-" you began, forgoing pleasantries as you advanced towards her. Once you were within distance, Quinn grabbed your hand and tugged you closer, shutting you up with a simple peck on the lips, making you incoherent for one blissful second as you were blindsided.

"I needed to take my mind off things," she replied, leaning her forehead on yours.

There was a look in her eyes, one you knew so fucking well, but that was so not how you were going to help take her mind off things. Absolutely not. The two of you almost never happened because of those types of looks and these slow kisses which led to more.

"Q, we can't-" As much as you wanted to, no.

"I know," she replied, giving you a little smile in amusement. "I just…I needed to kiss you again, to see you again. Should I not have…should I not have kissed you?"

"No, you can…you can kiss me." She needed to feel comfortable with this, and if that meant sneaking the occasional kiss now and then, you'd take it. You'd definitely take it.

After all, this was lunch hour, during school time. She was there, despite being aware that some rumours were flying around about her, and she was kissing you in the auditorium. If she was comfortable doing that, how could you not be?

"About Rachel," Quinn began, now chewing on her bottom lip as she pulled you back to her. "Is everything-"

"I don't know," you replied, not wanting to touch on it. "I have no idea anymore." It was muttered with a sigh, and you gave her a resigned look of defeat.

"She'll forgive you, or she'll get over you, whichever one is easier," Quinn murmured, wrapping her arms around your neck. "Don't worry about it."

That was easier said than done, but here was the girl you'd longed for in your arms, during school hours, planting kisses on your lips. There were other things to focus on. Nodding at her, Quinn gave you another smile, and this time, you fell into her embrace, burying your head into her neck.

It felt slightly selfish, she was there with about a million other problems going on, but yet she was comforting you. When you went to point this out, she shushed you with a finger to your lips and pulled you back in, letting you sink into her, losing yourself in her scent, and feeling safe wrapped up in her arms.

The scales had been tipped so heavily to your side, with you always being there for Quinn, this was actually a nice change, and you revelled in it as long as possible. The bell would ring, and she would eventually have to leave, and you wouldn't see her after school, but for now, for that moment right there, you were going to soak it up as much as possible.

The two of you weren't together, but you were laying the right foundations, equalling the scales, and she seemed to be growing bolder, even after two days. It all felt like it was coming together, which was something you definitely weren't used to.

*0*0*

The following day, as you stood at your locker, having just watched Rachel head right past you down the hallway, you realised how difficult this new situation was going to be. Yes, you were aware things weren't going to go back to one hundred per cent after twenty four hours, but you had foolishly hoped.

Brittany, having seen you looking pathetically after your best friend, decided to stop by your locker and check on you. Of course, there were more pressing things for you to concern yourself with, and you bypassed answering her question for a question of your own.

"How is she?"

"Quinn or Rachel?" Brittany asked, a teasing smile on her lips and you rolled your eyes. Okay, so you might have dropped the ball there.

"Both, how are they both?" You weren't actually sure which one you meant, and Brittany was clearly aware of that. Goddamn psychics as friends.

"Quinn is doing better. My parents are happy to help her, and she'll be living with me until college. She's also talking to her sister, which is great news as those two really need to start communicating again." You narrowed your eyes pensively at that, wondering what the big deal was, but decided not to ask.

No way would Brittany tell you the significance of Frannie Fabray, so you were just going to have to sit back and watch it play out. Hell, at least she'd hinted at it this time and not left you in the dark.

"As for Rachel, she's…she's not great," Britt replied honestly, shooting you a sad look as the two of you pushed off the lockers and began heading down the hallway. "I mean, she's getting there, she'll be back to talking to you in no time, but for now, I think she just needs some space."

"Space?" you questioned, needing to check. That was such an unfamiliar development for Rachel and yourself.

"Yep, space," Britt replied, nodding along.

"Right."

"She's trying to be a good friend, San." Brittany stopped walking and you stopped, too. "She doesn't want to take away from your progress with Quinn by ruining it with her morbid mood, so stop worrying about her and let me take care of it." Her words held enough conviction to have you agreeing, but there was something you wanted to know.

"You'll tell me if there's anything wrong, though, right?" You couldn't be left in the dark again.

"If I can," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. It was a move you were growing familiar with. Every time you harassed her for details on the goings on of the future, she was always doing that. What was the point of having psychic friends if they couldn't tell you what college you'd be attending? Talk about misplaced priorities.

"Okay, but should I maybe try and-"

"Don't do anything, she'll come to you. Same with Quinn," Brittany tacked on, grinning.

"But Quinn and I are-"

"Don't do anything," she sang, waving her finger at you, and you tried to fight the disdain and your curling lip in disgust. Fine, you wouldn't do anything, even though that sounded like a horrible idea.

"Quinn will come to me?"

"In no time at all. Now, I got to go. Sue wants to see me before class. Enjoy!" Brittany bounced off with a spring in her step and you fought back a groan.

You didn't want to wait on Quinn coming to you. You wanted to see her, you wanted to be with her, right then, right now. But you knew better. If Brittany said not to, you weren't exactly going to go against her advice.

Slugging your bag higher up on your shoulder, you headed off to class alone, and briefly wondered how Fifty Words had helped you at all when you were once again feeling alone. Okay, that was slightly on the dramatic side, but whatever. Where the hell had your friends gone?

*0*0*

Taking Brittany's advice, you left both Quinn and Rachel alone, and Quinn came to you first. She was all smiles and laughs, placing her hand round your waist and leaning into you, making you very confused. This was a girl who had been terrified to come out, but now she was acting like the two of you were dating. Granted, it was only in sparsely populated locations, like Brittany's backyard, and that grocery's aisle, but still.

"I spoke to my Pastor, and he's made me feel a lot more accepting of myself," she explained, the two of you sitting on the hood of your car, parked by the side of the new home development site.

She'd wanted to go somewhere private to talk, and you had nowhere in mind, so somehow ended up there. The sun was still out, and it was warm enough not to freeze your nipples off, so she hopped up on the hood and pulled you between her legs, wrapping her arms around your neck, and yeah, you thought you were there to talk.

"Your Pastor?" you asked, needing her to explain. It didn't take you long to realise that actually, yes, you were going to be talking, she just wanted you in this position so she could read your facial expressions.

"I went to him, before I spoke to my parents. He…he told me some surprising things." Quinn frowned as she spoke and bit her bottom lip, prompting you to reach up and pull it away, cupping the side of her face as you did so.

"What did he say?" You weren't really sure it was okay for you to ask, but thought you'd give it a chance anyway.

"I always thought my parents got their ignorant and bigoted views from the church, and in a way they do, but not from who I thought. My Pastor is actually very accepting. It's those on the church committee who aren't, and they're the ones who don't agree with homosexuality. They're the ones my parents are so deeply involved with."

"Have you…have you spoken to them since they kicked you out?"

"No, I don't…they don't want to see me again." She looked lost as she replied, and you felt a pang in your chest, wanting to do anything and everything possible to take it away for her.

"And have you been back to your Pastor?"

"Yeah, he says I'm still welcome at the church and his door is always open. I guess…I thought they were going to cast me out. The committee still might do that, actually, but I thought he was going to be leading the charge. I thought…I thought God was going to hate me, and I thought I was going to hell for loving you, and that scared the…" she paused, and you cocked your head to the side, mentally finishing the sentence off for her.

"Were you going to say that scared the hell out of you?" you asked, trying to fight the smile on your lips. Quinn looked at you like a deer caught in headlights and did the only thing she could think of.

"Shut up," she whined, shoving at your shoulder as you chuckled and dropped your head into her neck. You, and partly her, had turned this serious moment into a complete mockery.

"You were, weren't you?"

"Shut up," she groaned, a smile on her lips, tugging at your jumper, pushing you and pulling you about to take out her embarrassment. It was adorable as hell.

"I'm not saying anything," you remarked, trying to look innocent, and she rolled her eyes, deciding to continue.

"_Anyway_! That thought terrified me, that we would be going to hell, that you would be going to hell," she admitted, and your grin softened to that of a smile and you leant your forehead against hers, losing yourself in those gorgeous hazel eyes.

"Don't you remember, Q, that I'm already Satan, so really..." You raised your eyebrows and shrugged, letting her draw her own conclusions, but she was giving you that serious look and shaking her head gently.

"Don't joke about that," she murmured, and you ran your thumb over her cheek again.

"I'm sorry," you replied, not wanting to mess about if she was being serious. You and religion weren't a great mix, so jokes were abound.

"Don't apologise, either." Quinn pushed some of your hair from your face and began to close the distance, your heart picking up speed as she did.

"Okay," you whispered, your lips ghosting hers as you spoke, inhaling her scent, breathing in her air, and letting yourself drown in everything that was Quinn Fabray.

And then she ruined it.

"Wait, so if you were Satan, what was I in this analogy?" she asked, pulling back from you, shooting you a confused look. Really, she chose that time to ask that question?

Feeling the tinge of embarrassment on your cheeks when you remembered what you had always called her, you shuffled on the spot, feeling her legs tightening to keep you in place, and hello, that shouldn't have turned you on so much at this moment.

"A 'all'n ang'l," you mumbled, looking away from her as you did so.

"A what?" Of course, she wouldn't hear what you'd said. Just fantastic.

"You were a fallen angel. In my analogy, you were a fallen angel," you replied, exasperated and thoroughly embarrassed, which was not helped when she started laughing.

"San, you do know that _the_ fallen angel is Lucifer, Satan, right?" she teased, a smirk playing on her lips. If it wasn't so attractive on her, you would be throwing yourself off the nearest cliff.

"I never did pay attention in Sunday school," you muttered, shaking your head, and she chuckled at your antics.

"I can see that," Quinn murmured, still grinning, her eyes still shining, and you were grudgingly accepting the fact that you'd look like an idiot always if she kept smiling like that.

"Shut up," you grunted, trying to hide your face in her neck once again.

"Okay," she replied simply, cupping your face, pulling you closer, and finally, kissing you.

Your lips responded on instinct, kissing her back as carefully as she was kissing you, and you whined at the back of your throat in approval. Then she kissed you again, a smile on her lips, trying to fight the chuckling as you kissed her back, your lips brushing hers softly, trying not to be pushing or demanding, but awakening to her touch.

"I thought you needed time," you whispered, not able to get enough of her lips as you kissed her once more, revelling in the feel of her tightening her grip round your neck and pulling you closer, so you were leaning over her body as she leant back on the hood of the car. This position was going to get you in all sorts of trouble.

"I do, but I just…I can't help myself with you," she confessed, moaning against you, making you dizzy.

"You're not ready for a relationship." It wasn't a question, it didn't need to be a question. You knew her better than she knew herself in regards to you, and she wasn't ready for the seriousness that you were presenting. She needed time, and you were waiting. The only difference now, being that you were waiting with your lips against hers and your hands low on her hips, tugging her closer.

"I want to see how school goes, first. And I know, I know we're running out of time, but I'm sorry, I-" Quinn began, and you pulled back enough to shake your head.

"Don't, okay? Don't apologise. This can…this can be us doing this right…courting each other or something…without the secrets, and without the lies, before deciding whether we take the next step. We can do that, right?" You sounded so unsure, which couldn't have been a turn on, but she was grinning at you again, and your heart was flying under her gaze.

"We can definitely do that," she answered, and once more, the smile rendered you useless.

Good thing, then, that she didn't want you to say anymore, as her lips covered yours, and you were left dazed under her touch. No more secrets, no more lies, just proper, honest, open, affections for one another. That really didn't sound as scary as you thought it might. You never were one to stand the pressure of commitment, but with Quinn, well, that fear seemed to have gone.

What had this girl done to you, and why hadn't she done it sooner?

*0*0*


	19. Chapter 19: Time's Up

*0*0*

Fifty Words For Forgiveness

*0*0*

Time's Up

*0*0*

In the days that followed the kisses on the hood of your car, Quinn and yourself were waiting to see how things would go down in school. The rumours currently circulating all centred around her being kicked out of her house for a second time, with many jumping to the conclusion that she was pregnant again.

You were good, but you weren't that good.

Keeping your mouth shut, you bit your tongue when you heard the minions going on and on about how she was going to be giving birth, and how they'd witnessed her with morning sickness. You couldn't dispel the rumour because then that would lead to everyone asking why Quinn had been kicked out, and you didn't know what story she was going with.

Yes, she was out to her family, and to her closest friends, but there was something completely different about being out to the whole school and the whole town. Frustratingly, Brittany was keeping her mouth shut about what the best way to deal with this situation was, but apparently she was trading tips with Quinn herself.

You wanted to moan and whine about the injustice of this, but you couldn't because you had no one to talk to. Rachel was still giving you distance, though she did smile at you that morning on the way to class, and you took that as a good sign. Brittany said she was getting there, and that meant enough for you to nod your head and hope tomorrow would be better. Until then, you were going to sit in the auditorium and have your lunch in silence. Or so you thought.

"I'm thinking about saying something," Quinn mused, planting a kiss on your cheek as she took a seat next to you. You'd been daydreaming and hadn't even heard her approach.

"Saying what?" She could have been talking about anything.

"I want to clear up the rumours about me being pregnant, because I do not need that mess on my hands again, and if they ask why I was kicked out, I'll be honest." She nodded with her words, and you smiled softly at the self-encouragement tactic.

Cute.

"You don't need to rush it, Q. You can take your time," you said, hoping she knew there wasn't a deadline for her to come out by. She'd already done the hardest part.

"I know, but I feel ready. I feel that this would be the right time to. I mean, in a few weeks things are going to become hectic with extra Cheerio practices and Glee club meetings for regionals, and I want to get this out of the way so it doesn't bog me down."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." She looked proud of her decision, and you felt proud of her.

Seeing that look in your eyes, she chuckled and threw all caution to the wind, cupping your face in her hands and kissing you soundly. God, you'd never tire of that. She was practically giddy, smiling into the kiss, making you smile back, her lips softly kissing yours in between bouts of laughter.

"You'll be there, right? If things go pear-shaped?" She rose her eyebrows in question, and you found yourself melting into her gaze. Those damn hazel eyes, always so powerful, so captivating. How could you ever have resisted?

"Of course I will." As if you wouldn't be there for her.

Accepting the sweet smile she gave you in return, she kissed you softly, once, twice, three times, before pulling back and changing the subject, allowing you both to eat your lunches and bitch about the baby Cheerios screwing up your routines. This felt surprisingly normal, almost as if you were having lunch with your girlfriend. There was a thought, one you'd only dreamed about, but perhaps now, you were once step closer to that becoming reality.

*0*0*

Lounging around in Brittany's living room, Quinn's body cuddled up against you, your fingers innocently playing with hers as her head buried into your neck, you found yourself feeling relaxed and at ease for a change. The previous days had been tricky. Quinn had come clean to the school, and there was an unusual backlash of curiosity, ignorance, and then support. It seemed as though you weren't the only one who had done some growing up at McKinley.

Not only had the reaction been worthy of a few extra kisses, longing embraces in quietened corridors, and comforting hand holding through the hallways, the two of you had also had to contend with Sue's overbearing presence in Cheerios and Schuster's pitying looks in Glee. The staff were definitely aware of what had occurred, though it must have been obvious when Dr. and Dr. Pierce took over as Quinn's emergency contacts for the school.

However, Quinn still seemed upbeat, and it was only behind closed doors that she allowed you to see how tired she really looked. This had to have been an absolute roller-coaster ride for her, and you couldn't even imagine what she was going through. She appreciated your support, though, and seeing as that was all you could give her, you counted yourself lucky that she hadn't snapped or bitten your head off in frustration. You knew that Quinn was lurking in there somewhere, but you were fortunate enough not to have seen her in a while.

Earlier on that day, after Sue's gruelling Saturday morning Cheerio practice, Brittany, Quinn, and yourself all headed back over to hers. You had wanted to shower, change, and sleep the morning away, but Brittany had other plans for you, and once you found out what they were, all fatigue left your body and you were ready to get going.

In the wake of Quinn being kicked out, she had begun to sort through all the items Brittany had 'borrowed' from her, and all the ones she'd managed to grab on that particular evening. Only afterwards was she able to work out what she had left that she needed to go get. Brittany made her write a list of what it was and where they would likely to find it if her parents hadn't moved things about.

"I want to go with you," Quinn had said, crossing her arms and almost stomping her foot. She saw that you'd noted her leg twitch and shot you an unimpressed look, which just had you smirking.

"You can't go, Quinn," Brittany explained, placing a comforting hand on her arm.

"Why, does something happen?" Her words had you on edge, and the two of them turned to look at you as you stood there now worrying.

"No," Brittany began, shaking her head. "Nothing happens, that I can see. But if we're caught, they're more likely to try and press charges with Quinn there, than with just us."

"Oh." Okay, now you felt foolish for jumping to the worst case scenario.

Quinn reached over and tugged on your hand, getting you to look at her, and with a soft smile, she had you rolling your eyes at your thinking and smiling back. She was fine, she was okay, she was right there and she was safe from her bigoted parents. Nothing was going to happen to her.

"So, we should go then," Quinn said, entwining her fingers in yours, and nice try, Quinn, but you weren't falling for that trick.

"Yes, Brittany and I should be going. You need to stay here," you replied, fully prepared to fight her on this.

"I'll meet you in the car, San," Brittany said, grabbing the list from Quinn's hand and slipping out the door.

"You're being stubborn," Quinn murmured, almost pouting at you. That wouldn't work either.

"Yeah, I am, and you would be too. Please, please just stay here and wait on us coming back. I'd feel much better knowing you were here, than having you with us." It would be a huge weight off your chest, actually.

"Brittany said nothing will happen to me," Quinn whined, stepping closer to you.

"But what if Brittany's wrong? Yeah, we take her word like gospel, but I'd hate to think she's wrong some time and we screw up. Please, Q, just stay here?" You were begging with her, that had to count for something.

Quinn chewed on her bottom lip as she considered your words, and with a moan at the back of her throat, she nodded, immediately slumping into your body, wrapping her arms around your neck.

"I'll stay, but please be careful, because I do worry about you, you know," Quinn said, leaning her forehead against yours and making you hold at her body due to the proximity.

"I'll be fine," you murmured, and with a peck on the lips goodbye, you headed out the door to meet Brittany.

She didn't look surprised at all by your arrival alone to the car, and you rolled your eyes at her knowing damn near everything, and moaned at her to get a move on. From there, the two of you covered the items on the list, setting out a plan, and on arrival at Quinn's house, you parked four doors down just in case the Fabrays had told their neighbours to look out for any cars.

Approaching the house on foot, Brittany had you sneaking round the back, past the empty drive way, with her reassuring words that the place was empty right about then. She knew was she was going, and she would never have dragged you over there if they'd been in. You had to be thankful for that, at least.

The key which once was hidden round the back of the house was gone, a move both of you were expecting, so using the many skills the two of you had acquired over the years, Brittany managed to jimmy the window open, and you crawled through the space to let her in.

Breaking and entering, who knew falling in love would make you a criminal?

From that point on, the two of you made quick work of gathering up most of the things Quinn asked for. Her parents had begun to pack up her belongings in her room, which did make it a little harder, but thankfully the Fabrays liked to label things neatly. Shoving Quinn's things in the bags she had in her room, Brittany and you decided not to waste any time and quickly left the house.

An immature and vengeful part of you wanted to trash the place, but if all the Fabrays saw was a few less of Quinn's things they had to deal with, then the better. Plus, you were pretty sure that Brittany would have carried you away kicking and screaming if you'd tried to destroy their furniture. She kept glancing at you as if she knew what you were thinking, and you were certain that she didn't actually possess that ability.

Arriving back at Brittany's house, Quinn met you the two of you with tight hugs, and helped carry things inside. Then, you all headed upstairs to help her go through it, to make sure everything had been picked up. The things that had been left behind were of no importance, according to Quinn, otherwise you would have taken it all. Clearly, the girl was downsizing her life into what she could fit into bags and boxes, and while your chest ached at the thought of her doing so, you knew it would probably be a good idea if she was headed off to college in the fall.

College, that was something the two of you were going to have to talk about in the coming days.

Pushing that thought aside, Brittany went off to check on Lord Tubbington, and you had a sneaking suspicion that she'd actually let the cat out earlier, which meant he'd be at Rachel's, and attempted to lighten up the mood for Quinn. Brittany's parents were also out, and as the living room was free, the two of you started watching movies and talking about all the small things. Soon, you had her laughing and smiling in no time, a complete relief.

Even around the stress and all the tense moments, there was still things to be thankful for, and with her in your arms, you knew you'd never forget that. After all, it might have been so easy for her to shut you down and stay in the closet.

No, you were going to cherish those peaceful moments with her lips against yours, her hands caressing your cheeks, as if they were going to be the last. It was the only way you could handle the waiting, the fear that she'd change her mind, and the thought of losing her.

Those moments, they were precious, and as you kissed her languidly back, you filed away the feelings she evoked in you for a bad day. There would be plenty ahead, of that you were sure.

*0*0*

Sadly, bad days and stressful weeks made their presence known, and you needed to rely on those memories to get you through most of them. Glee Club and Cheerios were becoming intense, and you were so relieved when regionals was over. It gave you a brief respite from all the crazy, before Nationals were going to be mentioned again.

From all the extra practices and all the rehearsals, you did get to see and hang out with Quinn more, which was a bonus. Most of the time, it wasn't practical for you to always head over to Brittany's after school, so the two of you had your distance for a bit. Thankfully, she seemed just as put off by the notion of being apart from you as you were, and that made you grin happily and your heart beat a little quicker.

The two of you still managed to be close without defining things. There were more heated kisses, a few well-placed hickeys, and some wandering hands in the back seat of your car now and then, but Quinn wasn't ready to commit. You weren't taking it personally. You weren't. She needed time. You were being patient.

The students at school were still taking in her news, it seemed, but with each passing day it looked as if it was getting easier. Quinn never actually mentioned if she was having any problems, and you knew she never would because she was lovely and stubborn like that, but from what you heard through the gossip mill, it wasn't as rough as your coming out, or as hellish as Kurt's.

At first, you merely thought the student body was in too much of a shock to react, but as the days crawled by and still no slushy facials, you were relieved to see it wasn't coming. Maybe it was because it was Quinn Fabray who had come out. Maybe it was because a lot of people still seemed to worship her. Whatever, she was making it through that minefield untouched, and that's all that mattered.

You smiled at the thought, and then glanced at your phone, checking the time. You were in the auditorium, waiting for Q to turn up, but it seemed she was going to be a no-show. She had said that if she wasn't there after ten minutes that you were to start eating without her. Apparently, Coach liked to drag her in to go over national cheer routines during her lunch hour. You were kinda glad it wasn't you.

The sound of the door opening had you thinking that you were wrong, she had turned up, but as you turned in your seat, it was not Quinn walking towards you. Sitting up in your seat and swallowing, you repositioned yourself in the chair so you were semi-facing the seat next to you as Rachel stood next to it.

"Can I sit, or am I interrupting?" she asked, biting her bottom lip, looking more nervous than you felt.

It had been a while. Far too long since you'd had a proper conversation with her lately. Pleasantries had been traded over the last few weeks, and it was customary for you to smile at her or say hi when you saw her, but that was it.

When you'd asked Brittany about it, she had gone on to say that Rachel was putting all her romantic feelings for you to the side, and she'd be back to normal once there was no chance of her ever acting on them. You were actually surprised by how long that seemed to take, and a wave of guilt always hit you that her feelings for you were forever going to be unreciprocated.

However, with her standing next to you, those were not the things to focus on. She looked to be back, and now you just needed to figure out if that was the case.

"Of course, please, sit," you replied, perhaps too eagerly. She smiled softly, anyway, and maybe the eagerness wasn't a bad thing.

"I'm surprised you still eat in here," she said offhandedly. "Everyone would accept you in the cafeteria."

"This place is pretty important to me. I kinda became friends with this great girl in here, and the cafeteria just doesn't feel the same anymore, knowing she won't be eating there either," you replied, shrugging your shoulder and giving her a teasing smile.

She smiled and closed her eyes, her face angled to look at her lap as she accepted your words.

"I'm happy for you," Rachel said, deciding to cut to the chase, and you were getting ready to protest.

"Rach, you don't need to-" She didn't. She didn't need to say anything about that. You just wanted your friend back, the absence could be forgotten, because under the circumstances, it was completely understandable.

"No, I do," she replied, cutting you off. "I am happy for you, Santana. I'm happy you're happy, so let's just leave it at that. I'm still your friend, if you want to talk about Quinn and your relationship, I can listen and offer support and-"

"Best friend," you amended, now being the one to interrupt.

"Huh?" Rachel looked confused, frowning at you for a second.

"You're my best friend, not just my friend." Surely she knew that by now. Surely she was aware of how much she stood above the others.

"Oh." Rachel frowned again and blinked a few times before smiling cautiously. "I thought Quinn would have taken that position." You could hear the doubt in her voice, and you wanted to do everything to ease her fear that she'd been replaced in all departments.

"No, that position is firmly yours." Your words seemed to do the trick, and her cautious smile changed into a beaming one.

"Well, as your best friend, you should know I'll always be here for you, no matter what the issue is." And she really meant it, which had you awash with contentment, because you knew that if you ever had a problem in regards to Quinn and wanted to talk it out with someone, she'd listen. She'd listen and she'd give you the opinion she thought you ought to hear, not the one doused in bias or clouded by her own personal feelings.

"I know, and I appreciate it. Same goes for you," you replied, but your words felt almost empty as you said them. You hoped Rachel didn't think they were just you being kind, because that really wasn't the case, and as she gave your arm a squeeze quickly, those fears eased away.

"So, what have you been doing since we last had lunch? I heard about your Cheerios win, congratulations on that front, and I know you were spectacular at regionals for glee, but what about-" Rachel babbled, opening her lunch like the two of you had done this just yesterday.

You followed suit, and you answered her questions and asked your own where required, and before long things were back to exactly how they used to be. There was no awkwardness in the air, no tense feeling between the two of you, no doubts about reaching out to touch her, no fears of hurting her if you mentioned something relating to Quinn, it was all back to how it was before everything came tumbling out.

Finally, a normality you could handle, and just in time, too. Who knew how much longer you would have coped without Rachel around?

*0*0*

"What are we doing?" you whispered, smirking at the sight of Quinn in nothing but a bathing suit, making her way through the sleeping hotel. She had a robe in one hand, and a bottle of God only knows what in the other.

Hours previous, the Glee club had won themselves a Nationals victory, and it was safe to say everyone was pretty pleased with their performances. You'd already tackled Rachel in a hug, listened to her fears of losing because she missed a step in one of the dance routines, and then jumped up and down excitedly like children when recalling how you'd actually won.

She had then gone off with Kurt and Brittany, and the bewitching hazel eyes of Quinn pulled you in to see what she was up to. That had been hours ago, back when everyone was in Schuster's room partying it up like there was no tomorrow. The two of you had left that room after spending enough time to please the masses, and then snuck into the girl's room for some celebrating that couldn't be done in front of the others. Though, you were sure Puck wouldn't have minded.

When the door shut behind you, Quinn had kissed you frantically, pushed you onto the bed, mounted your lap and you were an absolute goner to her body on yours. She didn't seem to be interested in taking it any further, knowing full well that the others could walk in at any moment, and that was enough to keep your hands on top of her clothes and running through her hair, with only the occasional thrust of your hips into hers.

She was addicting, your body responding to each kiss, each pant like she was the conductor and you were the orchestra, replying with your own whimpers and touches. You couldn't fight it, the lust in her eyes, the love in her eyes, that had you drowning in her, but it was a welcomed death.

Still, your relationship was at a standstill, waiting for her to be ready to take the next step and make it official, but it felt like that could happen any day now. She seemed ready, she looked ready if her glances and gazes at you had been anything to go by, but yet no movement on her front.

However, those kisses, those touches, those noises she made when you ground your pelvis against hers, was enough to keep you waiting. It was coming, and hopefully so would she be, when this was done. You just wanted to be able to call her your girlfriend, to be able to say that you were in a relationship with one Quinn Fabray. You had wanted that for so long, wanted her for longer.

Those kisses of hers had been almost too enticing, and eventually, the two of you had been interrupted. Brittany came in the room with a knowing smirk, grabbing something from her bag before heading back out again, and that was enough time to give Quinn a new idea.

Said idea had you getting changed into your bikini, throwing your robe on top, and following her through the hotel after procuring a bottle of booze from somewhere. She looked wild as you moved behind her, her hair messed and untamed from your grip on it earlier, and her eyes still held that lustful look to them. She was like a siren, calling you in, and if you weren't in love with her before, you would be now.

"What are we doing?" you repeated, reaching out to run your fingers up her spine as she opened a door for you, letting you go in before her. It led to another corridor, and she reshuffled the robe and bottle in her hands so she had one free, taking yours before tugging you along.

"We're celebrating," she answered, a smirk on her lips.

"We're not having sex," you threw in, knowing that if that was going to happen it needed to happen back in the bed. The next time Quinn and you had sex, it was not going to be a quickie in some Jacuzzi or somewhere you could easily be interrupted. You wanted to be able to take your time with her again.

"You're right, we're not," she chuckled, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Then what are we-" You stopped when she pulled the two of you into the indoor pool room. It was empty, which was a relief, and letting go of your hand, Quinn wasted no time in dumping her robe on a chair and placing the bottle by the edge of the pool before diving in.

Before you had time to think, and she had yet to resurface, the door burst open behind you, and a swarm of voices filtered in, with one in particular leading the charge.

"You didn't think you'd be celebrating without us, did you?!" Puck called, charging past you and dive-bombing into the pool, just right of where Quinn had jumped. Following him through the door in a garble of giggles and laughter was the rest of the glee club, including Artie who was being carried by Sam.

Laughing at how the perfect little private moment between the two of you had just been gate-crashed, you threw your robe off and dove in after them. This was a celebration, after all, and it didn't have to be only between Quinn and yourself, especially when there was so little time left of high school.

These assholes weren't going to be in your life anymore, so perhaps you could take the time to hang out with them a little more. Now was as good a time as any, and Quinn agreed, quickly organising some sort of game for everyone to play, with Artie being the referee.

Only after several exhausting rounds, a major debate over whether or not that last move Puck had pulled was illegal, and then disbanding the game so the boys could race each other, did you have time to swim over and see Quinn again.

She was lounging with her elbows on the pool edge, kicking her legs out in the deep end to keep her afloat, and she was watching you as you swam over. Once you were within distance, she traded the wall for you, wrapping her arms around your neck, and her legs following suit round your waist. You cradled her body in your hands, gently caressing her skin underwater.

There was no need to worry about who was watching, the Glee club already knew what was going on, and you suspected Rachel and Brittany were who you needed to thank because you hadn't gotten any dumb questions or lewd suggestions about what was going on between Quinn and you. She seemed as relieved about that as you were.

However, just having her act so open with you, really made you feel a sense of adoration. This was still the girl who had been terrified of being out, being open about herself, and yet there she was, all smiles and laughs, arms round your neck, with her fingertips caressing your skin so publically. God, she'd really adapted, grown as a person, these last few months. You were so proud of her.

"I'm almost ready," Quinn murmured, breaking the contented silence between the two of you, and you rose your eyebrows in question.

"Ready for what?" Rather than answer, Quinn changed the subject.

"I've been speaking to my sister. You remember Frannie, right?" How could you forget that peach?

Frannie Fabray, original HBIC, a legend among Cheerios, and with a personality to charm the pants off those in power, and tear down those that stood in her way. She was the scarier version of Quinn, and last Santana had heard, she'd gone off to some Ivy League college, married some blue-blood and was on her way to popping out perfect children.

"Yeah," you answered, cautious of where this conversation might be headed.

"Well, she's helping me out," Quinn said, a hopefulness presenting itself in her eyes. "My parents have gone ahead and given her my trust fund, which was to be expected, I guess. Anyway, she's offered to pay for my college tuition and anything else I need." She tried to sound hopeful once more, but you saw and felt the sadness inside her at the thought of her parents disregarding her like that. They really didn't care how she was to care for herself. Utter bastards. But Quinn had mentioned some good news, too.

"Shit, really?" you asked, surprised by this turn of events.

"Yeah, I know, I'm shocked, too," she joked, rolling her eyes at how her sister's lacklustre reputation proceeded her and the assumptions your mind had jumped to about her. Okay, so it was surprising Frannie would do such a nice thing, but you should have given her the benefit of the doubt. After all, Quinn was her sister.

"Q," you began, getting ready to apologise for thinking the worst, but she was fine with what you'd said, brushing your words off.

"No, come on, we both know Frannie hasn't always been the nicest sister, but she's making up for it. I don't think she was happy with them kicking me out first time around, let alone the second. And I think she's genuinely trying to make amends for all the years she sat by and did nothing while our father dictated and controlled us, before drinking himself into that-"

"Hey," you murmured, squeezing her hips to ground her again. Her gaze had become unfocused as she spoke, and you knew she was replaying memories she ought not to. "You never have to put up with that again. And if she's helping you, that's great news. I'm happy for you," you said, wanting her to know how true that was.

"I'm happy for me, too," she teased, her forehead resting against yours as she attempted to lift the mood once more. It worked as you cracked a smile, and closed your eyes to just take her in.

The other glee members were laughing and joking at the other side of the pool, with the occasional splash cutting them off, but right there, you were able to block it out and only hear her intake and outtake of breath, only feel her body against yours, and only sense her calming presence.

"You know I'm in this for the long-haul right?" you asked, fear and anxiety seeping into your voice despite your best attempts to stop it. You just needed to check. You just needed to know you were on the same page as her, otherwise this was going to be heartbreakingly painful later on.

"You mean, do I know that you intend to make this work through college and whatever else comes our way?" You nodded, showing her a slightly more vulnerable side than you'd like, but she didn't hurt you. Instead, she kissed your lips softly and soothed your fears. "I'm fully aware, which is why I'm taking my time to assess if this is what I really want right now. You're…A lot of people say high school relationships can't work past high school, but I think we could, and I want to be in the right place before taking that step."

"There's no rush, that hasn't changed," you whispered, seeing that all too familiar light in her eyes.

"I know, and one of these days, I'll reward you for your patience," Quinn replied, nuzzling into you further, leaving a kiss on your neck as she did so.

Her words were comforting, her touch was comforting, and you could feel the hope inside your body growing stronger and stronger each day. Sometime soon, she'd be ready, and you'd finally be with her.

*0*0*

Returning to school after your Glee club Nationals win was a little surreal. The school didn't go out of their way to show their support, but they were a lot more accepting, and it made things a hell of a lot easier for some of the other Glee club members, which you were glad to hear.

God, how times had changed.

You could so easily recall how much you hated the Glee kids before Fifty Words, and now you were friends enough with them all to get on well. Minus Finn, of course, but Fifty Words couldn't win them all. It wasn't that good.

One friendship that it did create and blossom, however, was with the girl you were headed off to see. It was lunch time, and as usual, you were on your way to the auditorium to meet Rachel. Somehow, you had managed to get out of the Cheerios practice that lunchtime, and for that you were thankful.

Lately, Sue had been pushing all Senior Cheerios to teach the babies as much as possible, so that when you left they at least stood some chance of living up to your legacy. Though, you thought it best to tell each and every one of them that no matter what they did, they'd never live up to the Unholy Trinity. It seemed like the right thing to do to leave them feeling a little like crap so they could try hard to prove you wrong.

Quinn would roll her eyes as you informed them of that simple fact, and Brittany would smirk in agreement, but it was necessary. There wasn't a huge deal of time left of school, and in the coming weeks, Quinn would be appointing a new Head Cheerio from the Juniors and you then had to help teach her everything you all knew.

Brittany and her were meant to be doing that this lunch, and you were happy to have gotten away. With your things in your bag, you weaved through the students in the hallway, and headed in the direction of the auditorium.

"What are you smiling about? And where you headed? Lunch is this way," you said, having seen Rachel coming towards you in the hall. You were only a short distance from your destination, but it looked like she wasn't even going, which had you perplexed.

"Nothing," Rachel answered with a smirk. "And I'm going to meet Brittany for lunch." Huh, you thought Brittany was with Quinn. Maybe she'd managed to escape, too. Good on her.

"Oh, okay-" Her ditching you for Brittany kinda stung, but only because you didn't seem to invited along. "I guess I'll go eat in the cafeteria then," you mused, turning to head back, only to have Rachel reach out and take your arm, spinning you back round.

"Nope, you're to go to the auditorium," she said with a no-nonsense tone, smile still in place.

"You're going to make me eat lunch by myself?" That sounded damn right ridiculous, and cruel!

"You're not going to be eating by yourself, trust me. Just head to the auditorium like usual," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes at you. It was all very cryptic.

"What's going on?" you asked, glancing round the hallway to see if anyone else looked to be in on whatever was happening.

"Nothing you won't enjoy. Now, you've got someone waiting on you, so get going. I'll see you later!" she called, letting you go with a light push.

Watching her practically skip down the hallway, you once again wondered what the hell was going on, but headed in the direction of the auditorium anyway. That was going to be the best way to get answers. Later on, you'd bitch at Rachel for being so evasive, but for now, you were hungry and you wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

When you entered the auditorium, the place was in darkness like usual, with only the stage lights on. Upon that stage, lay all the answers to your questions, however.

Quinn was sitting on the piano bench until she saw you, and then standing, she smiled softly and gestured you over. Just the way she looked at you, the way her smile tweaked at her lips, the way she was glowing, had your heart racing, your heart soaring, because this felt like it.

This felt like what you'd worked so hard to achieve, from Fifty Words steeling your resolve when it came to Quinn and her secrets, to not allowing yourself to settle for half a relationship, to working through the issues with Rachel and Quinn, to her coming out. This felt like what you'd been waiting on.

This felt like the wait was over.

*0*0*


	20. Chapter 20: Fifty Words

*0*0*

Fifty Words for Forgiveness

*0*0*

You knew the second you saw Quinn on the stage, rather than in the seats, that this was going to be important, life-altering. This entire situation hadn't been orchestrated for nothing. Of course, there were two sides to every coin, and as you walked down the aisle to get to her, you could feel the nerves kicking in. She calmed you, however, with a lazy smile on her lips, and you dumped your bag at the bottom of the steps before climbing onto the stage to join her.

Rather than approach you like you thought Quinn would do, she turned and moved back over to the piano, picking something up. Okay, so maybe this wasn't what you thought it was. Maybe you had gotten your hopes up for nothing, because she just blanked you.

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you moved closer and began to open your mouth to speak. Quinn caught you and frantically shook her head, causing you to frown and glance about the room. Maybe the two of you weren't alone. Maybe someone was listening.

Since it was better not to ask and draw attention to the two of you, you took a seat on the piano stool she had just vacated, and then watched Quinn move towards you. She had a piece of paper in her hands, with one of the corners dog-eared from being played with, and you could see writing on it.

What the hell was going on?

Before you could ask, she had handed you the sheet of paper to see for yourself.

_Please, don't say anything, just read this through. I promise, I'll clear things up at the end, _it said on the front, and you unfolded the rest of it. This was really weird, and you now were convinced that you had misunderstood Rachel's enthusiasm for you, and that smile Quinn gave you. Something else was clearly going on, and it didn't feel good.

_While I know this is rather unorthodox, I thought I'd follow example. After all, it was you who wrote me a letter when you were struggling to find the words, and I admit, I am lost for them, too. There's so much I want to say, so much I need to say, that this seems the best way to do so. _

You paused, and looked up at her, ready to speak again, but she placed her finger over your lips and pointed back down at the letter. So no, you weren't meant to be talking at all. God, wasn't this a blast from the past. However, the least you could do was read her letter, even if it was her breaking things off with you.

_I've spent a lot of time thinking about how much Fifty Words has changed things, changed us. We could have been together, we could have _secretly_ dated with no problem, but Fifty Words changed you, and in turn, it changed me. _

_You became brave, strong in your convictions, and you knew not to accept anything less than an open and honest relationship. At first, I was mad at you, I confess, but now, I can't help but thank you for this change. _

_You've made me stronger, made me accept nothing less than what makes me happy, and now I can finally be open about who I am. Those that are worth having in my life will stick around, and they have, whereas before I was surrounded by those who wanted their idea of perfect, regardless of my happiness. _

_So, to pay homage to what has brought us closer than ever before, and what has made this a relationship I know will last, I give you my fifty words- the most important words, the ones that cover all bases, that can answer all questions, and the ones that hopefully cement you in my life. _

_All I ask is that you can forgive me for taking so long to reach this point. _

You folded the paper over with a bemused smile on your lips and watched as Quinn smiled your way in return. She wasn't rejecting you. She wasn't telling you 'not right now' or 'maybe another time'. She was actually trying to be with you.

"Hi," she began, cutting off your thoughts, and you grinned, ready to talk back.

**One. **

What the fuck?

Looking up abruptly, you swallowed anxiously and wondered if that had been your imagination. You had heard it. You had heard your creepy voice-over. You had. It had been so long since you'd last heard that voice, but you would never forget it. Had Quinn heard it?

"Yes. No. Thank you. You're welcome," she went on to say, biting her lip as if recalling this from memory.

**Seven. **

And again! But…Quinn was flicking her tongue along the edge of her teeth, completely unfazed. She couldn't hear it. Only you could, just like before. What…what?

"I miss you," she murmured this time, coming closer, her hands in front of her.

**Ten.**

"_I'm sorry_," she stressed, lifting her eyes and catching her gaze. It was all there, she still could knock you senseless with a simple look, and you allowed yourself one moment to lose yourself in it before pulling back to the now. "Forgive me," Quinn whispered, and you let out a shaky breath.

**Fourteen. **

As if there was anything to forgive. Yes, she hadn't been on board with you about Fifty Words when it struck you down, but look at where the two of you were now. She was there, right in front of you, saying all the things you wished you had said to her.

"I like you," she admitted, a slight grin making her way across her lips, and you smiled back, unable to stop yourself. It was impossible not to.

**Seventeen. **

Taking another step closer, Quinn was right in front of you, biting on her bottom lip. She reached out for your hands and pulled you up so you were standing before her. Then, her hands traced the letters on your Cheerios top. You let her, captivated by where this was going, and why she had gone from smiling to looking shy. Ducking your head to the side, you tried to catch her eye again, and when you did, you could see straight into her deepest and darkest fears.

Long ago, back when the two of you were exploring the other and trying not to make this a big deal, Quinn had begged for you to love her while she kissed your lips and your hands worked up under her dress. You had, but in return, you'd given her a piece of yourself you had never intended to give. She had gotten inside your head, your heart, and was bearing witness to all your insecurities in those kisses, those touches.

Well now, standing there, you could see every single one of hers. She was unsure, nervous, worried about how everything would play out, and scared. It was only when she opened her mouth that you understood the last emotion.

"Stay. Don't ever leave me," she whispered, almost pleading with you, her words rushing together. "I need you."

**Twenty five. **

You went to reply, but she shook her head. No. This was her time to talk. You were to listen. This was her fifty words. You had given her all of yours, day after day. This was hers.

"I love you," she confessed, and your heart soared at the words. God, you had missed that. You had missed hearing that, knowing that. You wanted to say it back so desperately. You were absolutely positive your eyes were conveying your message, because she looked away.

**Twenty eight. **

"I can't live without you." It was spoken so timidly, as if she was ashamed. You knew you couldn't talk, but you damn well could move.

**Thirty three. **

Your hands came up, cupping her face gently, and she leant her forehead against yours. Surely she knew that it was the same. Surely she knew that your feelings for her went beyond that of any other emotion you had felt, surpassing your love for Brittany by far. There was no comparison, really.

This was Quinn, _Quinn_, and your heart felt like it belonged with her. Your brain occasionally thought it was being silly, that this couldn't be it because no one found their soul mate, if that's what people wanted to call it, at such a young age. But, when Quinn looked at you, touched you, kissed you, there was no denying that you felt like you were home, you were happy, you were complete.

It might not make sense to others, but it made sense to you, and that's all that mattered.

"Love me," Quinn said, looking at you with such a need you found yourself nodding.

You would, you would love her until your last dying breath if she'd let you. Yes, at times, she'd probably want to kill you, and you'd probably want to do the same, but God, this girl. You loved this girl.

**Thirty five. **

"Kiss me," she began slowly, and you made to do just that, but she chuckled and shook her head. That had you frowning, but she went on.

**Thirty seven. **

"Touch me," she murmured, her eyes shining mischievously as she spoke, and you tried to fight the groan that thought invoked.

**Thirty nine. **

"Make love to me." God, you would, right on that damn piano if she'd let you. As if she could read your mind, she smirked and shook her head.

**Forty three. **

She was winding down now. This was going somewhere, and you waited with bated breath to hear what she was going to say next.

"Please."

**Forty four. **

"Santana."

**Forty five. **

Jesus, she was dragging this out. She was making you suffer with her sultry voice and hazel eyes, and you could feel her hands, now having wrapped around your neck, gently caressing the skin there, slowly. She was torturing you, and you whimpered, desperate to know what she was going to say.

She had five words. What the hell could she say in five words that would top everything else?

"Will you be my girlfriend?"

**Fifty. **

You took a shaky breath, your chest was practically heaving, and you blinked a few times to try and focus yourself. It felt like the room was spinning. She had…she had…you needed a moment because Quinn Fabray, _Quinn Fabray_, had just…she had just…

In fifty words, she had just dismantled you completely and put you back together again.

Christ, it all to lead her to you, you realised. Fifty Words…It…This was it. _This_ was the end of Fifty Words, not before when the creepy voice-over disappeared. No, this was it, right there, right now.

Fifty Words had guided you, shaped your actions and choices. It had helped you find true friends along the way, make amends with past friends, and push you towards the very girl in front of you.

Brittany had said it was about helping you, saving you, and it had done all that. It had. But it had done so much more. It had made you into a better person, a loving person, who would stand by their convictions no matter what. And because of that, because you had done exactly what it wanted, you now found yourself in true happiness, because loving Quinn, being with Quinn, achieved that.

You could do anything with Quinn at your side.

And she…good lord, she had just asked you to be her girlfriend, the very question you wished you could have asked her before Fifty Words had stolen your words from you, robbed you of your voice, and forced your hand.

You would have asked, back then. You would have gone along with being a secret, back then. You would have loved her in private, back then. But now, now she was asking you to publically be her girlfriend.

Maybe you were never meant to ask. Maybe she always was. Maybe Fifty Words was just as much for her as it was for you. Maybe you both had to learn from it. Maybe you both were meant to shed your lonely armour of past and move forward with the other, together.

"San?" Quinn wondered, looking worried, and you waited, just in case, but the voice over never came. You were right. Fifty Words was as much as Quinn's journey as it was yours, and she had no idea.

"Yes," you replied, your lips twitching into a smile.

"Yes?" She cocked one eyebrow in question, and you smirked, nodding fully now.

"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend. God, will I ever," you murmured, licking your lips and closing your eyes to just take in the moment, breathing her in as you did so. Fucking sunshine and fresh air, enveloping your senses, captivating you completely.

Quinn chuckled and let out a relieved breath, then her hands were cupping your face, in your hair, pulling you forward into her kiss, sealing your words with her mouth and making you weak at the knees. It was a welcomed move, and you ended up smiling into it, your arms now wrapped round her neck.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," you murmured, unable to stop yourself. You couldn't. You had waited and waited so long to be able to say those words to her and know that she would accept them no matter what, not just depending on who was present in the room.

"I love you, too. You have no idea," she replied, biting her bottom lip as she grinned. It was a gorgeous sight to behold and you kissed her once more. "I know this doesn't make everything perfect. I know we have college ahead and that'll be a nightmare, but Yale is only two and a half hours away from New York and we-" Quinn began to ramble when your lips began their path across the rest of her skin.

You'd missed her soft touch so much, and God, you going to spend the rest of the night making up for lost time and worshipping what you had almost lost.

It was only when your tongue was flicking across her collarbone that you realised what she'd just said, and you pulled back. She had stopped when you did, and waited mid-sentence to see what you were going to say. She actually looked scared as if she had just ruined things.

No, that was nowhere near the truth.

"Yale, huh?" you checked, just in case you had actually heard her wrong.

"Yeah," she replied, nodding softly.

"You always did have to be better than everyone else," you teased, and she smiled. "No, seriously, Q, that's fantastic news. You're going to fucking dominate there." How could she not, she was Quinn Fabray.

"Just like I did here, then," Quinn replied, making your face drop. Oh hell no.

"You wish," you barked, shaking your head as she smirked at you, looking fucking gorgeous as she did so.

"Weren't you meant to be giving me a compliment or at least a congratulations?" Quinn asked, turning pensive for a moment, but her smile was giving her intentions away.

"Hmm, no, I don't think so," you replied, knowing two could play at that game. Quinn chuckled under her breath and rolled her eyes, shaking her head at you. Try as you might, you smirked and pulled her body back into yours. "Congratulations, I'm so fucking proud of you. And we'll make this work. I know we will."

"I believe you," Quinn whispered, and if that wasn't growth, what was?

Grinning, this time it was your turn to close the distance, and you kissed her with a smile on your lips and a warmth in your heart.

There was no way the universe would just throw Fifty Words at the two of you if the relationship was destined to fail. That just wasn't possible. But you knew that it didn't mean you were always going to be safe. You knew you had to work at this, constantly work at it if you wanted to be with Quinn, but you were already aware of that fact when you fell head over heels in love with her.

It had been a hell of a long time coming, but you'd both made it through this. Yes, the (current) hard part wasn't over, but for any successful relationship to work, the foundations had to be correct. Fifty Words had ripped out the poor ones the two of you had built in your bedroom on Friday nights, panting in the other's ear as you came closer and closer to the edge, and replaced them with proper, solid foundations; foundations that were built to last.

Fifty words, because if you couldn't say it in fifty words or less, then it didn't need to be said. That was your mantra, that was what you lived by. Fifty words to bare your heart, to bare your soul, and that's exactly what Quinn had done, for you, for your acceptance, for your love, for your forgiveness, just like you had done for her.

Finally, the scales were even, the ground was laid, and you were both ready. Maybe this was where the journey began. Maybe Fifty Words was just the introduction, not the first act, nor the whole play. Maybe this was where you really found out how much you'd learnt, how much you'd grown, and how much you could handle.

Regardless, with Quinn beside you, with her hand in yours, you'd find a way to make it through anything. She made you invincible like that, her and her fifty words.

*0*0*

* * *

A.N. – And there we have it. Almost. There will be a one-shot from Rachel's point of view, dealing with the aftermath of Santana's rejection, and it reveals what happens with Quinn and Santana past this ending. And for those of you who were rooting for Pezberry, and doing a damn good job of making me want to jump ship half way through, I do have an alternate ending written, which will be posted at some point in the future.

Words truly cannot express my thanks to you all for reading, for giving this story a chance, and for sticking with it until the end. This would not have been half of what it is right now without your support and input along the way. So thank you, _thank you,_ so much. I hope the ending was worth the wait.

Cheers!


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